
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 


















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THE HEIRESS 


OF CASTLE 


VALE. 






































THE HEIRESS OF CASTLE VALE 


—©Ft— 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN 


/ 


-BY— 


MAY B. STONE 

Copyright 1892 by Cairo a Lee 



CHICAGO: 

LAIRD & LEE, PUBLISHERS 





THE SONG OF 

My dress is of fine polished oak, 

As rich as the finest fur cloak, 

And for handsome design 
You just should see mine— 

No. 9, No. 9. 

I'm beloved by the poor and the rich, 

For both I impartially stitch; 

In the cabin I shine, 

In the mansion I’m fine— 

No. 9, No. 9. 

To the Paris Exposition I went, 

Upon getting the Grand Prize intent; 

I left all behind, 

The Grand Prize was mine— 

, No. 9, No. 9. 

' At the Universal Exposition of 1889, at Paris France, the best sewing machines of 
t be world, including.those of America, were in competition. They were passed upon by 
a jury composed of the best foreign mechanical experts, twc of whom were the leading 
sewing machine manufacturers of France. '1 his jury, after exhaustive examination 
and tests, adjudged that the Wheeler & Wilson machines were the best of all, and 
awarded that company the highest prize offered—the GRAND PRIZE—giving other 
companies only gold, silver and br onze medals. 

The France government, as a further recognition of superiority, decorated Mr. 
Nathaniel Wheeler, president of the company, with the Cross of the Legion of Honor— 
the most prized honor of France. 

The No. 9, for family use, and the No 12, for manufacturing uses, are the best in 
the world to-day. 

And now, when you want a sewing machine, if you do not get the best it will be 
your own fault. 

Ask your sewing machine dealer for the No. 9 Wheeler & Wilson machine. 
If he doesn’t keep them, write to us for descriptive catalogue and terms. Agents wanted 
in all unoccupied territory. Wheeler & Wilson Mfg. Chicago, ill. 





THE “NO. 9. 




I never get surly nor tired. 
With zeal I always am fired, 
To hard w r ork I incliue, 

For rest I ne’er pine— 


No. 9, No. 9. 


I am easily purchased by all, 

With installments that monthly do fall 
And when I am thine, 

Then life is benign— 

No. 9, No. 9. 


TO LADIES! 


We will mail our HOUSE TREATMENT 

free to any lady. A positive and permanent 

cure for all forms of Female Complaints or weakness. 

Nlay Flower Med. Co., Chicago, III. 




OLD LIBBY PRISON 

RICHMOND, V A. 

Removed to Chicago 

and converted into a War Mu 
seum. Thousands of Relics from 
North and South. Open daily 
Sundays included,9 a.m. to 10 p.m. 

‘'A Wonderful Exhibition.” 

Bet. 14th & 16th Sts., Wabash Av. 

No Animq^ity, 

_No North, No South. 


Try the experiment of sending $1.25, $2.10 or $3.50 for a box 
of the the finest candy in America, put up in pretty boxes 
suitable for a present. EXPRESS PREPAID from Denver 
East, and Boston West. Visitors to Chicago should call and 
remember the loved ones at home. 

C. F. GUNTHER, Confectioner, 212 State St., Chicago. 


TME COMMERCIAL MOTEL; 

Cor. Dearborn am! Lake Sts., Chicago, Ill. 

Centrally located; accessible to all Railway Stations and Steamboat Land¬ 
ings; Cars for all parts of the city pass the door. All modem conveniences, 
gates f 2 and S3,50 per day, including meals. 

OHAS, W. PA8B, Onager* 























CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. 

PAOE 

The Hinkleys—An Ancient Family, - - - 9 

CHAPTER II. 

Mr. Blackman'# Call; - - - ... 14 

CHAPTER III. 

A Good Hater, .... . . 31 

CHAPTER IV. 

Greek Meets Greek, ..... go 

CHAPTER V. 

Blue Blood in America, - - - - 42 

CHAPTER VI. 

A Skeleton in the Safe, - - - - 53 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Roving Artist, - - - - 60 

CHAPTER VIII. 

An Indignant Niece, ----- 69 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Discovered Ambrotype, - - - -78 




Or 


(5) 



6 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER X. 

The Handsome Stranger, 

CHAPTER XI. 

Kitty out Botanizing, 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Meeting in the Cove, 


The Proposal, 

CHAPTER XIII. 

CHAPTER XIV. 


Secrets of the Golden Cross, 

CHAPTER XV. 

Some Awful Shadow, 


The Betrothal, 

CHAPTER XVI. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


The Nocturnal Visit, 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Aunt Hester’s Discovery, 


The Cablegram, 

CHAPTER XIX. 


CHAPTER XX. 


The Irate Lord, 


CONTENTS. r 

CHAPTER XXI. 

PAGE 

A Singular Drbam, - - - - - - 176 

CHAPTER XXII. 

The Discovered Will, 181 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

The Ghost, - - - - - - 188 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Countess of Castle Vale, 191 

CHAPTER XXV. 

“God Pity Me!” - - - - - - 195 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Aunt Hinkley’s Discomfit, .... 205 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

Mason’s Farewell to Ralph, .... 212 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

“ My Beloved,” ------ 217 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

The North Rooms, - - - - - 220 

CHAPTER XXX. 

In Sickness, In Sorrow, ... 225 

CHAPTER XXXI. 


Mason is Dying, 


229 


o 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

“Love Made it So,” 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 
A Visit to Hinkley Park, 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 


The Wedding, 





THE HEIRESS OF CASTLE VALE 


—OR— 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN 


CHAPTER I. 

THE HINKLEYS— AN ANCIENT FAMILY. 

What’s Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba, 

That he should weep for her? 

—Hamlet. 

M ISS HESTER HJNKLEY took off her spec¬ 
tacles and wiped them. 

Not that there is anything unusual m this act, do 
I chronicle it at the beginning of my story—most 
elderly people do likewise—but for the indubitable 
fact: whenever Miss Hinkley was a trifle moved from 
a certain complacency, as natural and fitting to her 
as the close shirred cap she always wore, she was sure 
to manifest it by drawing forth an immaculate white 
cambric handkerchief (folded with the most careful 
precision) and applying it to the lenses of her spec¬ 
tacles. 

This afternoon, she rubbed them vigorously, which 
betrayed that Miss Hester was a good deal moved. 
Readjusting the spectacles with great exactness upon 
the bridge of her nose, she proceeded to re-read a letter 
which she held in her hand. It was a curious letter; 



10 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


short, cold and very magisterial. One perceived, in¬ 
stantly, that it was written by a limb of the law—by 
one who understood his business too thoroughly to 
indulge in superfluous words. 

Miss Hester Hinkley, of Hinkley Park— 

Madam: Your sister, Rebecca Kaw, wife of deceased Rich¬ 
ard Kaw, is dead. (Not modified in the least, but straight to the 
point. Could he have divined Miss Hester’s proclivities?) She 
leaves one child, a girl, without property. Will you take her, or 
shall I consign her to one of the charitable institutions of this 
city? Please reply. 

Yours, etc., 

Blackmar and Hickey, 

Attorneys at Law. 

“ So Rebecca is dead,” said Miss Hinkley, calmly, 
as she folded her letter and replaced it in the en¬ 
velope. “Well, I am not surprised—we all die 
sooner or later. I think she might have known bet¬ 
ter, however, than to leave me a child to bring up ; 
but it is like her—foolish to the very last. 

“To be sure I shall take the girl. A Hinkley 
never yet found a home in a charitable institution. 
We have always been a noble, influential family as 
far back as I can trace ; and that is—let me see—to 
my sixteenth great grandfather. There has never 
been a stain upon the family escutcheon, until Re¬ 
becca married Richard Kaw. ' She did unwisely and 
received her just deserts. Her child, however, is a 
Hinkley ; I shall take her and bring her up as be¬ 
comes a Hinkley.” 

Arriving at this sage conclusion, Miss Hester 




AN ANCIENT FAMILY. 


11 


drew a small, ivory inlaid escritoire toward her, and 
producing from it writing material, proceeded to in¬ 
dite the following characteristic epistle : 

Messrs. Blackmar and Hickey, Attorneys at Law— 

Sirs: You may forward the girl immediately. 

-Yours, with respect, 

Hester Hinkley. 

Of Hinkley Park. 

Not a word wasted. Miss Hester would have 
made a good lawyer herself. 

Ringing a bell, she summoned a servant. 

“ John,’’ she commanded, “take this letter at 
once to the post-office; return, and at precisely the 
stroke of three let the carriage be at the door. I shall 
ride.” 

Then Miss Hinkley donned her black bonnet, and 
taking the book of “ Daily Prayer ” from a shelf, 
read diligently until the carriage was announced. 
She descended, and seating herself precisely in the 
middle of the old-fashioned coach—not an inch farther 
to the right than to the left—was driven slowly down 
the avenue and out at the park gates. 

As Miss Hester had said, the Hinkleys of Hinkley 
Park were people of importance. They had emi¬ 
grated to America in very early times—one Sir Hink¬ 
ley being appointed Governor of a flourishing English 
colony. The present estate had remained in the fam¬ 
ily ever since that memorable event; and, as each 
new owner came into possession, he proudly signified 
it by contributing something to the old mansion—a 


12 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


new wing or a jutting alcove—until at last but little 
of the original structure remained. During the life 
of the late Madison Hinkley, quite extensive repairs 
had been made, and at the present date the pictur¬ 
esque old pile, with its heterogeneous mixture of an¬ 
tique and modern architecture, resembled a castle of 
Queen Anne’s time with nineteenth-century improve¬ 
ments. It attracted travelers far and near; and of 
the many strolling artists who thronged this vicinity 
during the summer months, not one failed to carry 
away with him a sketch of Hinkley Park. 

’Squire Madison—the original title having degen¬ 
erated into esquire, owing to Americanism — died 
without male issue. The entire property, therefore, 
descended, or would have descended, I should say, to 
his two daughters, but for the atrocious act perpe¬ 
trated by the younger—Rebecca—who fell in love and 
secretly married a strolling artist— young Richard Kaw. 
She reaped her reward. The old man disowned her 
and thrust her from his door, and upon his death the 
entire property fell to Hester, who, it is said, never 
committed the atrocity of falling in love with any 
living creature but herself and her long line of de¬ 
funct grandfathers. 

The difference between the sisters in girlhood days 
had been very marked. Hester was’ hard and cold 
and plain of face, while Rebecca was a golden-haired, 
sunny-hearted beauty. To this day the people of the 
little village loved to talk of Rebecca Hinkley’s fa¬ 
mous beauty. Many a time have I listened to a glow¬ 
ing description of her sweet peach-colored face and 


AN ANCIENT FAMILY. 


13 


her wondrous hair that shone like gold ; many a time 
have I heard tell of her gentle smile and kindly words 
to even the meanest kind. 

She was dead now, and her sister ruled supreme 
at Hinkley Park. 

There need be no occasional twinges of conscience 
to remind Miss Hester of that wandering one—she 
could enjoy the old ancestral home in peace. 

She had not wept at the news of Rebecca’s death. 
Why should she ? They had nothing in common— 
these two—there had been little enough love between 
them in the old days. She would do her duty, how¬ 
ever, she argued—the dead one’s child should find a 
home beneath her roof. 


14 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER II. 

MR. BLACKMAR’S CALL. 

My poverty, but not my will, consents. 

—Shakespeare. 

rpHE ponderous knocker to the widow Beal's re- 
-L spectable boarding-house in Norl street, Boston, 
was lifted and dropped just three consecutive times. 

This was an established rule with Mr. Blackmar, 
of Blackmar and Hickey, attorneys at law, and was 
recognized everywhere. Three, regular, forcible 
knocks, meant Mr. Blackmar at the door, as much as 
if you stood watching him from your parlor win¬ 
dow. 

“ Mr. Blackmar!” exclaimed the widow before 
the last reverberation had ceased, “ and at this time 
of day ! What can he want ? ” 

She leisurely tucked up several stray locks of hair 
and straightened her collar; knowing well that another 
fixed rule with the much regular attorney, was to 
wait just five minutes by the watch, after the last rap, 
before descending the steps and going away. He 
was a widower, and it was w T ell to be on the safe side ; 
so half of the allotted time had elapsed before the 
widow made her way through the long hall and 
opened the front door. 


MR. BLACKMAR’S CALL. 


15 


“Why, Mr. Blackmar ! ” she simpered, assuming 
a surprised look. 

‘‘Is Miss Katharine Kaw within ? ” 

“ I believe she is. Poor thing, I feel dretful-” 

“Tell her I wish to communicate with her.” 

“So I will. Walk into the parlor, Mr. Black 
mar, and take the declining chair.” The widow 
Beal was famous for her long words, and if she some¬ 
times misapplied them she was blissfully ignorant of 
the fact. ‘ 4 It was in this very room that Kitty’s 
(Katharine’s, I mean,) poor ma——” 

“Madam,” said the lawyer, “you will oblige me 
by making haste.” 

The widow hurried away completely nonplussed. 
“Miss Kitty; Miss,” she called, knocking vigorously 
at a door at the farther end of the hall; “ here’s law¬ 
yer Blackmar come to see you, and in a dretful strait. 
I say out on sich men as is always in a hurry. ” 

The door was opened slowly, and a cambric hand, 
kerchief, with an inch-deep black border, was low 
ered from a sweet, childish face. “ I can’t see him,” 
said a petulant voice. 

“Oh, yes you can,” said the widow, drawing the 
lithe, black-robed figure gently from the room and 
closing the door behind her; “mebbe he’s brought 
you news from your aunt Het.” 

The widow Beal always used this familiar sobri¬ 
quet in speaking of Miss Hester Hinkley, of Hinkley 
Park—probably having formed the erroneous idea 
that that lady was fat, fair and forty, and just suited 
to the title. Could Miss Hester have heard her, one 


16 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 




look from those steely-gray eyes would have forever 
annihilated the presumptuous widow. 

“ I don’t want to see that disagreeable old law¬ 
yer,” said Kitty Kaw; “I won’t go in.” 

“Oh, yes, you will, Miss Kitty. Your poor ma 
would have liked you to.” 

“ Oh, poor mamma ! poor mamma! ” sobbed the 
childish voice. “I hate aunt Hester Hinkley ! I 
don’t care for news from her.” 

“ Pshaw, now, Miss Kitty, come cheer up ! I 
know you'll take powerful to your aunt Het. Go 
in”—pushing her in at the parlor door—“lie’s in an 
awful hurry.” The black-robed figure advanced a few 
steps, and the cambric handkerchief was again ap¬ 
plied to the tearful eyes. 

“Hem!” ejaculated lawyer Blackmar—“Miss 
Kaw ? ” 

“Yes,” replied a choked voice. 

“I dare say, Miss Kaw,” (this in an exceedingly 
brisk and business-like tone) “ you are aware that the 
pension paid annually to the widow of Richard Kaw, 
for public services, rendered by said Richard Kaw 
during his lifetime, ran out at her death ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, poor mamma ! poor mamma ! ” sobbed 
the young lady. 

“I also presume you are aware that there is noth¬ 
ing'left ?” 

“Yes, yes; oh, dear, poor mamma!” 

“And that you are utterly destitute?” 

The cambric handkerchief entirely covered the 
pretty face—Miss Kaw was overcome, 


MR. BLACKMAR’s CALL. 


17 


A look, a trifle akin to sympathy, overspread 
the lawyer’s hard visage. 

“Miss Kaw,” he remarked in a somewhat modu¬ 
lated tone, “allow me to say there have been provis¬ 
ions made. I myself have written to Miss Hester 
Hinkley, of Hinkley Park, concerning your condition. 
She has sent for you. I have her letter with me; ” 
and from the left corner of his waistcoat pocket, law¬ 
yer Blackmar produced Miss Hester’s brief epistle, 
which he handed, with a stiff bow, to Kitty Kaw. 
“ Miss Kaw, allow me to congratulate you. You will 
find a safe asylum beneath Miss Hinkley’s roof. Most 
of the young women would have been left to buffet 
with adversity ; but you are among the fortunate of 
this earth.” 

Having delivered these closing remarks, in 
which he considered he had discharged his last obli¬ 
gation, the lawyer replaced his silk hat squarely upon 
his head, and taking his gold-headed cane between his 
thumb and first two fingers, prepared to depart. 

The cambric handkerchief was lowered an inch or 
so, disclosing a pair of dewy eyes and an exceedingly 
pink little retrousse nose. 

“ When am I to go ? ” inquired Miss Kaw. 

“As soon as possible — to-morrow, if you like. 
A carriage will call for you, and, Miss Kaw, should 
you need for finances, do n't hesitate to draw on me. 
I will present my bill to Miss Hinkley. Good day.” 

The door to the widow Beal’s respectable boarding 
house clanged behind him, and Kitty Kaw was alone, 
standing just where he had left her, in the middle 
1 * 


18 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


of the floor, with Miss Hester’s affectionate epistle in 
her hand. Wiping her eyes and the tip of her nose 
for at least the hundredth time that morning, she pro¬ 
ceeded to draw the letter from the envelope and 
unfold it. 

41 You may forward the girl immediately.” 

Down went the letter on the floor, and with an in¬ 
dignant gesture Miss Kitty Kaw stamped one little 
foot upon it. 

‘“You may forward the girl immediately’—just 
as if I were a piece of merchandise to be boxed or 
baled, and sent by express — the mean old thing!” 
she exclaimed, her black eyes shining with indigna¬ 
tion. 4 4 She has no more heart than a stone, and I 
know it! Only think how she treated mamma ! Oh, 
mamma ! poor mamma ! ” and the sobs were renewed 
again. 

44 1 won’t go! I’ll work out, first! The idea of 
her speaking of me in that manner. I dare say she 
quite intends to make a servant of me, just as if I 
had not as good a right at Hinkley Park as she ! ” 

44 Well,‘Miss Kitty ? ” 

The widow Beal had stuck her head in at the 
door and propounded this question : 

44 Is it news from your aunt Het ? ” 

44 Yes,” answered Kitty Kaw, 44 she has sent for 
me to come and live with her.” 

44 Wal, now, what did I tell you? I knew your 
aunt Het would do right by you. I told your poor 
ma so the day she died. Says I, 4 Mrs. Kaw, I know 
and feel your sister Het will take Kitty and do well 


MR. BLACK MAR’S CALL. 


19 

by her. I know she is* a hull-souled woman, and 
don’t you fret one bit. Your poor ma did n’t seem to 
reprive as much comfort from it as I thought she 
might. I’m real glad for you, Miss Kitty, though I 
shall miss you dretful. Did she write ? ” 

“Yes,” replied that young lady, picking up the 
letter from the floor gingerly with her thumb and first 
finger, “ here it is.” 

The widow put on her spectacles and examined it 
minutely. “ Short and recise, but straight to the pint, 
Miss Kitty. ” 

“It’s a mean, heartless, unfeeling letter!” said 
the girl. 

“No, it hain’t neither, Miss Kitty. . I dare say 
your aunt Het was busy when she writ it, an’ hadn’t 
no more time to spend. I like it; it’s straight to the 
pint. I like things straight to the pint. When be 
you goin’ ? ” 

“To-morrow, if I go at all.” 

“ Of course you ’ll go, Miss Kitty. What on ’arth 
else can you do ? You hain’t a cent in the world, and 
you know you can’t export yourself. This is a hard 
world. It’s all I can do to export myself.” 

“ Oh, dear,” sobbed Kitty afresh, “ poor mamma ! 
poor mamma! ” 

At precisely nine o’clock the next morning, a car¬ 
riage stopped at the door of the widow Beal’s respect¬ 
able boarding house, in Norl street, and a young lady, 
attired entirely in black, with a black-bordered cam¬ 
bric handkerchief pressed close to her eyes, was led 
out and placed in it by the widow herself, who, after 


a 


20 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


kissing the childish face affectionately and sending 
her love to “aunt Idet,” watched the carriage roll 
rapidly away. 

Kitty Kaw was en route. 

In one corner of a lonely graveyard the cold April 
rain was beating down upon a new-made mound. 
Here, the village beatify, the once pride of Hinkley 
Park, lay sleeping, while her only daughter, with the 
same happy peach-colored face and golden locks, had 
gone to try her fate at Ilinkley Park. 


A GOOD HATER. 


CHAPTER III. 

“a good hater.” 

ISS HESTER HINKLEY, of Hinkley Park, 



sat in lier boudoir — that is, if such an uncom¬ 
promising apartment could be properly called a bou¬ 
doir. It was exceedingly unlike the French, scarcely 
English, but intensely Puritan in all its appointments. 
Every article wore a rigid look of precision which 
reminded one instantly of that good old, but somewhat 
mistaken, orthodox society. 

The floor was covered with a dark Axminster car¬ 
pet, finished with a border of unique design. This 
border served its own purpose, for ranged in a row 
exactly upon the edge of it, stood seven stiff, high- 
backed chairs. The -curtains which draped the win¬ 
dows and the high, old-fashioned, post bedstead were 
of some dark material, and, allowing the expression, 
hung about as gracefully as a starched gingham gown 
on a fat woman. In one corner stood a clumsy old 
Dutch clock, which reached from the floor to the ceil¬ 
ing. This, being an heir-loom, was Miss Hester’s 
special pride, and hence occupied a conspicuous spot 
in her boudoir. She liked to contemplate that it had 
stood just so, and measured out life in hours, minutes 
and seconds to her dead and gone grandfathers. It 
was a comfort to know that they, like herself, had 


22 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


watched the hands creep over the dial, and listened to 
the pendulum’s monotonous tick. The old clock was 
very dear to Miss Hester. In another corner stood a 
severe-looking hair-cloth sofa, which was also sacred 
to the memory of the defunct Hinkleys ; though how 
they kept from slipping off this cumbrous piece of 
furniture is a problem I can never hope to solve. 
These, with a few other minor articles, completed the 
furniture of this room, which, need I say, was after 
Miss Hinkley’s own heart; and, as she sat in one of 
the stiff, high-backed chairs, she looked an antique 
gem within a fit setting. 

Exactly upon the stroke of six she laid down her 
book— u Baxter’s Saint’s Rest”—and rang the bell 

u John,” she commanded, as the old servant ap¬ 
peared in obedience to the summons, a harness the 
horses to the carriage ; drive to the station and in¬ 
quire if any one alights from the eastern train bear¬ 
ing the name of Katharine Kaw. If there should, 
you are to bring her here, and if there should not, you 
are to return quietly home and say nothing about the 
matter. You understand me ? ” 

The old man bowed respectfully and departed full 
of wonder. “ Weel, weel,” he muttered, “I ken not 
who she be ; but if, by the name, she is akin to the 
bonnie mistress, Rebecca, she’ll find old John ha’ a 
gladt weelcome for her.” 

Miss Hinkley resumed her reading at exactly the 
sentence she had left off, and continued, apparently 
deeply absorbed, until the returning carriage wheels 
grated upon the gravel at the front entrance. 


A GOOD HATER. 


23 


“ She’s coom, mistress,” announced John, “ and a 
bonnie lassie she is—mooch loike the mistress, Re¬ 
becca,” he added under his breath. 

“Very well, John, show her into the library. I 
will see her presently.” 

Miss Hinkley proceeded to finish the sentence she 
was reading. Then rising, she shook out her stiff 
black bombazine dress (she still clung to mourning, 
although 'Squire Hinkley had been dead these ten 
years), pulled the shirred cap a trifle more over her 
right ear, and taking the book of “Daily Prayer ” in 
her left hand, descended with a slow and measured 
tread to the library. What she expected to find I am 
not prepared to say—most likely, though, a mere 
child ; being totally ignorant of her sister’s life during 
the last eighteen or nineteen years; and I will do her 
the justice to proclaim that a look of real astonish¬ 
ment came into her face as her eyes rested upon Kitty 
Kaw. 

“ Rebecca ! ” she had almost exclaimed ; and al¬ 
though there was not a trace of superstition in Miss 
Hester’s make-up, a strange, uncanny feeling took 
possession of her. She knew perfectly well that Re¬ 
becca was dead, but this girl, with her sweet, childish 
face, was very like her. 

It was with an effort that she shook off the feeling 
and advanced toward the figure that had risen to greet 
her. 

“ Katharine Kaw ? ” 

“Aunt Hester Hinkley ? ” 

The tone was as cold and proud as Miss Hester’s 


24 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


own. Willful little Kitty possessed the Hinkley 
blood so far as to return hauteur for hauteur. 

“Be seated,” commanded Miss Hester ; “I desire 
to have a short conversation with you before you re¬ 
tire to your room. We should understand each other 
at the beginning. I presume you are aware, that I 
sent for you, not because I wanted you, but because 
you are a Hinkley, and the Hinkleys never disgrace 
themselves. Your mother came the nearest to it of 
any-” 

“Indeed she did not!” protested Kitty indig¬ 
nantly. “Oh, poor mamma!”—seeking refuge in 
the black bordered handkerchief. 

“I am the best judge of her character and ac¬ 
tions,” said Miss Hester, coldly. “I reiterate, she 
did very foolishly; please not to interrupt. She is 
dead, I presume ? ” 

Poor Kitty thought of the lonely grave out in the 
sobbing rain, and a great lump filled her throat, which 
deprived her of all power to answer. 

“Yes,” continued Miss Hester, “she is dead. 
She received her just deserts in this world, and I do 
not doubt there is punishment awaiting her in the 
next.” 

The cambric handkerchief came down immediately 
from the black eyes—Miss Kitty’s tears were suddenly 
dried. “Are you aware of whom you are speak¬ 
ing ? ” asked that young lady, bestowing a look of 
righteous indignation upon her relative. 

“ Of my misguided sister, Rebecca Hinkley Kaw,” 


A GOOD HATER. 


25 


replied Miss Hester calmly; “I think I mentioned 
her name before.” 

“And my mother,” put in Kitty; “my poor, 
misused, defrauded mother! who was a thousand 
times better than all the other Hinkleys put together ; 
for she at least possessed a heart, which is more than 
you can say of the rest of them.” 

“That depends,” continued Miss Hester. “We 
can trace back as far as my sixteenth grandfather. 
The Hinkleys have always been a noble race. Not 
once has there been a stain upon the family escutch¬ 
eon, until-” 

“ Until mamma married papa. I understand you 
perfectly well, aunt Hester. Richard Ivaw was re¬ 
spectable, but poor. You knew nothing of his lin¬ 
eage—it might have been as noble as your own. It 
was only poverty that made the blot. Under such 
circumstances I wonder that your doors are not closed 
against his orphan ? ” 

“You arc a Hinkley,” said Miss Hester, not at all 
discomposed by this vehement outburst; “and that 
makes all the difference in the world.” 

“ Indeed !” remarked Miss Kitty, sarcastically. 

“I see,” continued the lady, “ that your training 
has been injudicious. I shall endeavor to correct it. 
You may retire to your room. Jane will attend 
you ; ” and striking a bell, Miss Hinkley gave her or¬ 
ders and sailed majestically back to her boudoir. 

“ She is like Rebecca,” she remarked to herself as 
she placed the book of “ Daily Prayer” in its exact 
2 


26 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


place upon the shelf, and took down her silk netting 
—“very much like her. She has her quick, fiery 
temper, but I shall subdue her,” and Miss Hester’s 
hand closed upon her delicate work as if it were even 
poor Kitty Kaw she was so ruthlessly crushing. 

Meanwhile that young lady had been shown to her 
room by the hand-maid, Jane, who evinced as much 
curiosity as possible with her staring china-blue eyes 
and gaping mouth. The arrival of a young and beau¬ 
tiful lady at Hinkley Park was not a common event 
by any means, and had excited the liveliest interest in 
the lower regions. As yet only old John suspected 
Kitty’s identity, and he would not speak until his 
mistress gave him leave. 

“Can I do anything, Miss? ” asked Jane, with a 
reluctant hand on the door knob. She would dearly 
love to stay and solve the mystery. 

“Nothing,” replied Miss Kaw. “1 prefer to be 
alone.” 

Thus repulsed, Jane was forced to withdraw. 

Left alone, Kitty threw herself into an easy chair 
and looked about her. It was a comfortable room, 
certainly, with its dark carpet and ponderous old 
mahogany furniture—rather somber, but just suited 
to her feelings. 

“It will do,” remarked the young lady, “but it 
reminds me of her — so stiff and cold! How she 
talked of poor mamma, as if she were once to be com¬ 
pared with those stingy, disgusting old Hinkleys ! 
I hate the very name of them ! I believe she called 
mi a Hinkley. Well, I will show her that I am one 


A GOOD HATER. 


21 

—as far as a temper is concerned. If she expects to 
gain the mastery over me, she "11 have to work for 
it! ” and Kitty Kaw’s dark eyes sparkled dangerously. 
“ I never was crossed yet,” she continued, “and I shall 
not begin to submit to it, now that I am past seven¬ 
teen. Papa, nor mamma, never thought of such a 
thing! Oh, my poor mamma ! ” and this time the 
cambric handkerchief did double duty. 

“ I declare,” emerging from behind the said hand¬ 
kerchief after a space of ten minutes or so, “I never 
in all my life saw such a fright as aunt Hester ! 
What a horrid cap she wears; and that stiff old bom¬ 
bazine dress ! As she sat there staring at me like a 
Gorgon, I could think of nothing else but the rock of 
Gibraltar dressed up. I don’t wonder she isn’t mar¬ 
ried ! Who’d ever have her ? The way she calls 
me 4 Katherine ’ makes me shudder. It reminds me 
— ugh! — of that wicked old Catharine de Medicis, 
who had all of those people killed. I’m pretty sure 
she spells it with a 4 C.’ But what’s in a name? A 
rose, etc., you know. I’m not as ugly as she would 
imply; ” and Kitty took a look at her sweet young 
face in the mirror. She smiled, then made a comical 
little moue and turned away. 

Going to the window, she gazed out upon the 
lawn. A cold April rain was falling, and everything 
looked drenched and uncomfortable. Like a white 
ghost, a mist stole up the avenue and cut off the view 
beyond. The girl seemed hemmed in by dreariness. 
44 Ah, me!” she sighed, 44 is it likely that, in this 
dungeon with aunt Hester to watch me, I shall evex 


28 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


enjoy myself one atom ? I don’t doubt but in time I 
shall become just like her —wear shirred caps and 
bombazine dresses, and go about with a book of Daily 
Prayer in my left hand. I shall not be Kitty Kaw 
then, but Miss Katherine Hinkley, of Hinkley Park, 
and talk all the time about my old dried-up grand¬ 
fathers, and the like.” 

“ Miss,” said Jane, appearing at the door with a 
tray, 44 mistress says how I was to serve your tea in 
your room, and that you was not to come down till 
she sent for you.” 

44 Indeed ! Well, pray tell your mistress for me 
that I shall 4 come down,’ or stay up, just as I see fit,” 
said Miss Kitty flippantly; “but on this occasion I 
will take my tea here. In fact, I shall rather enjoy it. 
You may set the tray down and go, Jane. 

“But, Miss,” said Jane, reluctantly— 

44 What is it, my good girl ? ” 

44 You surely hain’t expectin’ me to tell the mis¬ 
tress what you jest said ? ” 

44 And why not? I presume to say that my feet 
are my own, and should they incline to carry me out 
of this room, I shall not consult Miss Hester Hinkley, 
or any one else. Nobody ever told me before, that I 
was or was not to remain in my room, and they are 
not to begin now.” 

“Lauk o’ mercy ! ” muttered Jane, as she closed 
the door and retreated. 44 She’s one on ’em ! Won’t 
she and the mistress pull hair ! ” 

44 To think,” said Kitty, drawing the tray towards 
her and helping herself to the eatables thereon, 44 that 


A GOOD HATER. 


29 


she should send me word not to leave this room until I 
am sent for ! Who knows whether or not that will be 
in six weeks? She may forget my very existence. 
I ’ll show her how I intend to obey her ! If I were 
not just tired to death, I would go down this very 
evening. I dare say, every time I do anything to 
displease her majesty, she intends to make a prisoner 
of me in this room. We shall see ! ” 

Ah, yes, Miss Kitty, “we shall see! ” Perhaps 
you are not aware that the mandates of the mistress 
of Hinkley Park are as invincible as the laws of the 
Medes and the Persians. 

After the tempting little meal had been disposed 
of, Kitty Kaw brushed out all her soft golden curls, 
laid aside her black robes, and donning “the prettiest 
night-gown under the sun,” knelt down and said her 
prayers ; then climbing into the old-fashioned, high’ 
post bedstead, and cried herself to sleep over “poor 
mamma.” 


30 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER IV. 


GREEK MEETS GREEK. 


The weakest goes to the wall. 


— Shakespeare . 


ITTY KAW had slept well — slept soundly — 



JLX_ i n S pite of the somber old room; in spite of 
Miss Hinkley’s cold reception ; in spite of the lurking 
fear that the old house was haunted by the sixteen 
defunct grandfathers who might rise before her, en 
masse , at any moment. 

She rubbed her eyes, pushed back her tangled 
golden curls, and concluded it was time to get up. 

Opening a window, the soft Spring air came rush¬ 
ing in. Every trace of yesterday’s storm had van¬ 
ished, and Hinkley Park was looking en regalia . 

“It’s pleasant,” said that young lady, “and I 
shall go down and take a stroll through the park. 
The idea of aunt fossil intending to immure me in this 
room ! I might as well be a mummy outright, and be 
kept in a glass case. That suggests — I wonder that 
the sixteen grandfathers are not embalmed and set up 
for ornaments in the drawing-room. It would be a 
pleasant conclave, surely. Supposing I should hap 
pen to have a lover—a bashful young man for in¬ 
stance—I could entertain him nicely by saying: these 
are my grandfathers ; that is Alexander Hinkley, and 
this is Hezekiah Hinkley; and so on down, eulogiz- 


GREEK MEETS GREEK, 


31 


ing upon the particular merits of each one ; then I 
would wind up with this interesting information : 
that when I am dead, I expect to be added immedi¬ 
ately to the list, I know what he would say,” and 
Kitty Kaw shook her long curls, while the dimples 
chased one another all over the peach-colored face — 
“Miss Kitty, let me be a mummy, too.” 

“Oh, dear!” she exclaimed suddenly, drawing 
down her face—“poor mamma! poor mamma!— 
where’s my handkerchief?—oh, poor mamma ! ” and 
then followed a deluge that threatened to drown every 
smile of the morning. “I wish,” said that young 
lady, after wiping away the last tear, “ I wish I knew 
where the cat slept; I’d go down and walk under her 
window and sing with all my might, just to plague 
her and let her know how I intend to stay in my 
room. ” 

“I believe I will go—yes, I’m going now. Ah, 
Miss Hester Hinkley—beware ! I’m coming—be¬ 
ware ! ” 

Down the wide oaken staircase tripped Miss Kitty 
Kaw and out through the great front entrance upon 
the lawn 

Soon she was sauntering up and down the grav¬ 
eled walk, singing at the top of her fresh young 
voice : 

“ Who’ll buy caller herrin’ ? 

They’re bonnie fish and halesome farin’; 

Buy my caller herrin’. ” 

Now, paramount, among the rules so firmly estab¬ 
lished at Hinkley Park, was this : Miss Hester was 


32 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


on no account to be disturbed from her balmy slum¬ 
ber before the stroke of eight. At that precise in¬ 
stant, however, she was to be awakened by the ring¬ 
ing of a bell at the key-hole of her door ; and, though 
long-accustomed habit had rendered this act a super¬ 
fluity (Miss Hinkley always awoke of her own ac¬ 
cord), it was in no wise to be omitted. No, indeed ! 
Such an oversight would have immediately caused the 
phials of Miss Hester’s wrath to uncork ; then, woe 
betide the unfortunate’s head. 

Alas ! this morning, the clock had not gained the 
stroke of seven, when Miss Raw’s inopportune voice 
began to make itself heard exactly under Miss Hes¬ 
ter’s window. That young lady was not supposed to 
know the exact time allotted to the mistress of 
Hinkley Park to slumber; she only knew that the 
fresh air was very invigorating, and at that particular 
moment she was feeling unusually well and uncom¬ 
monly like exercising her lungs. Therefore, she was 
not prepared for the appearance of Jane, who slid 
cautiously around one corner of the house and whis¬ 
pered in a tone of entreaty : „ 

44 Oh, hush, Miss! ” 

44 What for?” inquired Kitty, manifesting great 
surprise. 

44 You'll wake the mistress.” 

4 4 Is that all ? ” said the young lady, composedly. 
44 Well, I’m sorry if she will take the trouble to 
awake at my singing, but I can not possibly desist. 
I feel just like singing, and my voice is my own, I 
presume ? Go in, Jane ; you mean well, I dare say, 


GREEK MEETS GREEK. 


33 


but I am not used to having people dictate to me. I 
have lived seventeen years, and nobody ever told me 
before when I should, or should not, sing ; and I 
don’t intend they shall begin now. Go in, like a good 
girl, and leave me in peace. It’s high time your mis¬ 
tress was aroused. Over much sleep is good for 
neither man nor beast. ” 

Jane retired with horror depicted on her coun¬ 
tenance. “I can’t stop her no way,” she exclaimed 
to the cook ; “ she’s just determined to raise bedlum 
and bring the mistress down on the hull of us.” 

Meanwhile Kitty had resumed her walk and song, 
pitching the latter on a decidedly higher key. 

Presently a window slid slowly up and a night- 
capped head appeared. “Katherine Kaw,” called a 
metallic voice, “go instantly to your room.” 

The tone was so determined that Kitty quailed in 
spite of herself. 

“The man, or woman, who hesitates is lost,” 
thought that damsel, recovering herself. “ If I suc¬ 
cumb now all will be over, and I shall be surely in the 
cat’s clutches.” 

Turning, she smiled up the hard face in the win¬ 
dow. “Good morning, aunt Hester,” rang out the 
clear voice ; *“you had better come down—the air is 
lovely. ” 

“Katherine Kaw, go instantly to your room.” 
There was no softening of intonation—evidently Miss 
Hester was not to be moved by any such blandish¬ 
ments. 

“Please excuse me, aunt Hester,” said Kitty; “I 


34 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


don't enjoy staying in my room on such a beautiful 
morning ; anything else to oblige you, though.” 

“Do you deliberately intend to disobey me, Kath¬ 
erine Kaw ? ” ■ * 

“Not exactly that, auntie; only, you see, I pre¬ 
fer the morning air, and a walk in the park, to a 
snuffy, old-fashioned room. Bon jour” 

The window went down with as near a bang as 
Miss Hester ever permitted herself to indulge in. 
Ringing the little bell upon her toilet table, she sum¬ 
moned the awe-stricken Jane, who, from a convenient 
angle, had made herself cognizant of all later pro¬ 
ceedings. “Jane,” she commanded, “go to Miss 
Raw’s room ; take the key from the door and bring 
it to me.” 

Jane obeyed, and Miss Hinkley closed the door of 
her apartment with the following injunction : “The 
instant Miss Kaw retires to her room you are to let 
me know.” 

Drawing the shutters, she disappeared behind the 
bed-hangings and was soon snoring as peacefully as 
if there were no such beings under the sun as refract¬ 
ory nieces. 

Having come off conqueror, Kitty concluded to 
abandon her walk immediately under the enemy’s 
window, and take the projected stroll through the 
park. “The idea,” she soliloquised, “of her send- \ 
ing me to my room ! I imagine, Miss Hester Hink¬ 
ley, I shall be able to disabuse you of the very erron¬ 
eous impressiqji you have formed, as to being able tc 



GREEK MEETS GREEK. 


35 




rule over me. It is an exceeding preposterous idea, 
and the sooner you are rid of it the better.’ 5 

Presently she beheld through a leafy vista a sheet 
of sparkling water. “The lake ! ” she exclaimed in 
delight. “ Oh, how beautiful it is ! How often I 
have heard poor-mamma speak of it! It must have 
been down this very path that she used to steal at 
evening, to meet papa. What a pretty name it bears 
— ‘Mermaid Lake.’ Papa used to call mamma ‘his 
little Undine.’ I imagine she looked like a beautiful 
water-fairy, in her long white robe, with her golden 
hair floating about her. How dearly they loved each 
other, and how delightful it all was until aunt Hester 
came spying upon them, and told grandpa Hinkley ! 
Of course the old curmudgeon raided a dreadful fuss 
(he had outgrown every thought of love ages before, 
I dare say), and papa and mamma were secretly mar¬ 
ried and came away to a stuffy little room in town. 
I declare, it is dowdy to be married ! I VI much 
rather have been ‘Undine’ all the days of my life, 
and dwelt by this beautiful lake. O mamma! how 
sadly they misused you! O my poor mamma ! ” and 
down sat Kitty Kaw upon the grass, to indulge in a 
few tears. 

“If I only had a boat,” she remarked, when the 
fountain had been exhausted and she was herself once 
more, “I would row over to that little island. If 
there were only a cave over there, all of coral, and I 
were a mermaid fair ! ” and she fell to singing, in a 
soft voice, 


3 


36 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


“ Oh, who would not be 
A mermaid fair, 

Singing alone, 

Combing her hair 
Under the sea, 

In a golden curl, 

With a comb of pearl, 

On a throne ? 

“ I’m hungry,” was the next practical announce¬ 
ment— ‘‘nearly starved. I shall go back to the 
house and get my breakfast, then return and spend 
the day here. It will be delightful away from the 
ca t! ” 

Full of these thoughts, the young lady sauntered 
leisurely back to the house and up the broad staircase 
to her own room, for the purpose of re-arranging 
her golden locks. 

Alas ! she had no sooner entered this apartment 
than the wily Jane whispered at the keyhole of Miss 
Hester’s door, “She’s come, mistress.” 

It happened to be at the exact stroke of eight, 
and Miss Hester was wide awake. She arose quickly 
and with a cat-like tread stole down the corridor to 
her niece’s room. It was but the work of an instant 
to insert the key in the lock ; one turn, and presto ! 
Miss Kitty Kaw was a prisoner. 

The greatest battles on record have been won by 
strategy. The greatest generals have been the most 
skillful strategists. Miss Hester had proved herself a 
competent general, and had at the very outset outwit¬ 
ted Kitty Kaw. 

The sharp click of the turning lock attracted that 



GREEK MEETS GREEK. 


37 


young lady’s attention, and she was not long in learn¬ 
ing the true state of affairs. 

Locked in her room, rage, indignation and despair 
took possession of her. What should she do ; batter 
the door down ? Hardly. Climb out of the window ? 
It was too high from the ground. Apologize to aunt 
Hester ? No ; a thousand times, no ! She would 
remain in this room a whole lifetime rather than so 
humble herself. 

In fancy she drew a harrowing picture of herself, 
like unto Lady Jane Grey confined in the Tower at 
London, subject to the haughty queen’s displeasure. 

“ I presume aunt Hester would off with my head 
if she only dared,” quoth Kitty. “I fancy she is 
like that dreadful iron Mary. Oh, what shall I do? 
How am I to get out? Poor mamma! oh, poor 
mamma ! ” and in the light of this new trial Kitty 
sobbed as if her heart would break. 

“ Well, there is one thing,” she continued, wiping 
her tears away ; u if I am to be a martyr, I am deter¬ 
mined to die the death of one—brave to the very 
last. How I wish I had a copy of Fox’s Book of 
Martyrs, so I could learn just how they conducted 
themselves. I really don’t suppose aunt Hester keeps 
thumbscrews or a rack in the house ; so I shall not be 
subjected to torture. I know what she intends to do, 
however, and it is just as bad — starve me ; yes, 
literally starve me, until my cheeks fall in and my 
very hair drops off my head. Just imagine me with 
awful and black hollows under my eyes, great pointed 
cheek bones, my mouth drawn down in a pucker, and 


38 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


not a hair left on my head ! Oh, Kitty ! Kitty! 
surely no one will be saying then that ‘your pretty 
face is pictured in his heart.’ I declare it is a shame 
to reduce me to such a state; it is, indeed? I won¬ 
der what she intends to do with me then? I know 
what I can do. By that time I shall be able to make 
my egress through the keyhole. I mean to play up 
ghost, and roam about the house at night, scaring 
everybody out of their wits — aunt Hester included. 
I can easily slip back before morning, so no one will 
mistrust me. Ah, me ! how I wish that about day 
after to-morrow—by the time I have gained an inter¬ 
esting pallor — some Romeo would happen along 
under this window, with a rope ladder, and whisper 
‘Juliet! ’ Would n’t I descend ? Then I would say, 

‘ Here, my good fellow, is a sixpence for your trouble ; 
now go to ! go to ! ’ 

“Dear me, I am almost famished ! I shall soon be 
obliged to gnaw the furniture. I shall begin upon 
the pin-cushion, as that is stuffed with saw-dust. Not 
much nutriment in saw-dust, I imagine. I do wonder 
how long I shall be able to subsist upon it. I ob¬ 
serve with joy that the pin-cushion is a large one. 

‘ Hark ! a footstep comes this way. Can it be 
she intends to let me out ? ” and Kitty Kaw’s visage 
suddenly brightened. 

“Your breakfast, Miss,” said Jane, opening the 
door far enough to admit a tray, “ an’the mistress 
says as how you can’t come out ’till you make proper 
apologies an’ promise to obey her in the future.” 

“Tell your mistress, then, Jane, that I shall live 


GREEK MEETS GREEK. 


39 


and die in the seclusion of this apartment. I hope 
she will not be so cruel as to extend her enmity to 
my corpse ; but, if she should, she can' construct a 
funeral pyre in the center of the room and cremate 
me. Just suggest it to her, Jane, my good girl.” 

“La! how you do go on, Miss. It hain’t no 
airthly use to stan’ out so agin! the mistress; she’s 
so sot in her.ways, no one can go agin 1 her.” 

“Then behold that individual, Jane!” exclaimed 
Miss Kaw, striking a tragic attitude. “I am deter¬ 
mined to defy Miss Hinkley with my latest breath. 
Go to ! I say, and cany my message to her highness. 
Say to her that the blood of my sixteen grandfathers 
—I should say seventeen, counting the late ’Squire 
Hinkley—courses through my veins, and that the 
motto of our ancient house is written upon my heart: 
4 We conquer, or we die ! 1 ” 

“Good gracious, Miss !” said Jane, looking her 
astonishment, “how queer you be ! I’ll tell her all I 
mind of, but I couldn’t go through that hull lingo to 
save my soul. I hope you will eat your breakfast. 
Good morning.” 

The key grated in the lock, and Jane hastened to 
deliver the following condensed message : 

44 She took on, mistress, awful wild like, an’ said 
she’d be a corpse fust before she’d ’pologize. A cu¬ 
rious creetur as ever I see.” 

m 

44 1 shall subdue her,” said Miss Hester with a 
grim smile. 

“ Jacta est alea! ” (I have pronounced my own 
doom) exclaimed Kitty Kaw, turning her back upon 


40 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


the door. “I must die in this room. I wonder what 
aunt Hester will say to my message ? What a charm¬ 
ing idea, Kitty, my child, about the motto of our 
house being written upon your heart; only, I fear it 
was not a very original idea. Let me see, it was Iron 
Mary who said they would find Calais written upon 
her heart. Well, the saying served me a good turn. 
Shall I eat (eyeing the tray) or hasten my certain 
death by slow starvation? The broiled chicken looks 
inviting. I will eat this once, only once,’* and in 
spite of her hard fate, Miss Kaw drew the tray to¬ 
wards her and made a comfortable breakfast. 

Greek had certainly met Greek, Miss Hester 
found. Three days had passed slowly by and there 
was, as yet, no signs of capitulation on the part of her 
obdurate niece. 

“lean stand it as long as she” remarked Miss 
Hester, which was wonderful, considering that lady 
had her usual liberty and was in no way sympathet¬ 
ically inclined toward her tender young relative. 

To that young lady, however, it was growing mo¬ 
notonous, very monotonous ; so much so, that it was 
fast becoming unbearable. She grew morose and 
cried most of the time over “poor mamma,” and was 
fast attaining that distinguished pallor she had so 
dwelt upon. At last she began to wish she had apol¬ 
ogized. “ It would not have hurt me,” quoth Miss 
Kitty; “mere words are as nothing, and I really 
Vould do almost anything to get out of this detesta¬ 
ble room.” 

The fourth day drew to a close and Miss Kaw sue- 


GREEK MEETS GREEK. 


41 


Climbed. “ Tell Miss Hinkley I wish to speak with 
her, Jane,” she said meekly. 

Miss Hester came, grim and warlike. 

Kitty Kaw threw back her golden curls, her soft 
cheeks all aglow, and stood like a culprit before her 
judge. 

“You wished to communicate with me,” said the 
general, scenting triumph in the air. 

“ Yes,” said Kitty humbly, “I don't wish to stay 
in any longer. I'm very sorry I left my room with' 
out your consent.” 

“Very well,” commented the general; “and I 
presume in the future you will Temember that I am 
the mistress of Hinkley Park, and therefore accus¬ 
tomed to being obeyed ? ” 

“Yes, ma’am,” faltered,the culprit. 

“Then Katherine, you are at liberty to leave your 
room ;” and with a high and mighty air Miss Hester 
sailed out of the apartment. She had won the day. 

“She’ll not do it again,” muttered Kitty, as she 
watched the retreating figure; “I’ll always carry the 
key witlr me, after this. Aunt Hester Hinkley, you 
have not conquered me yet.” 

2 * 


42 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER V. 

BLUE BLOOD IN AMERICA. 

“ Fair tresses man’s imperial race ensnare, 

And beauty draws us by a single lialr.” 

To Lord Mason Grantly, of Grantly Manor, England— 
Dear Old Boy : I promised to write you as soon as I were 
once landed and fairly settled. Here goes : 

At our parting I noted in my memorandum sundry important 
questions to be answered in this, my first epistle, viz.: “Upon 
what spot of this uncivilized continent have I stayed my youthful 
feet ? Is the scenery picturesque ? Are the people out-and-out 
barbarians ? If so, what species of wild beast do they most 
closely resemble ? And last, but not least, do the wilds of Amer¬ 
ica afford the rare sight of a pretty girl ? ” 

Everything must have a beginning, my boy, so I will begin by 
saying that we were mistaken in our ideas of America. It is 
highly civilized. The people eat, drink and sleep here exactly as 
they do in Old England. They have all of our follies and most of 
our virtues ; all of our modern improvements and many of their 
own added. In fact they are a set of ingenious Yankees, whom 
it is hard to beat. The bloated aristocrat here is the moneyed man. 
He may have blacked boots, dug out stables, or run errands all 
his boyhood days. Nobody thinks of that. The popular cry in 
America is, “ Let me feel of your pockets.” They don’t give a 
rap for blue blood unless it is cashed. But on the whole they are 
a good set — warm-hearted, hospitable, etc.— and the only species 
of beast that they most closely resemble is Johnny Bull. 

“Where have I stayed my youthful feet?” At present I 
find myself comfortably quartered in a lazy, fallen-asleep little 
village eusconsed among the hills in southern New Hampshire. 
It is a very old place—among the first settlements, and its narrow 


BLUE BLOOD IN AMERICA. 


43 


street and queer, antique-looking houses remind me immensely of 
a little obscure stadt in Germany, which I once visited and fell 
deeply in love with, and where I grew so lazy and fat—so fond of 
life and do-nothing in general, that I was in danger of becoming 
a mummy and burying myself forever. To tell the truth I can 
hardly convince myself that 1 am in go-ahead America. 

“ The scenery ? ” I wish I had a thousand tongues to sing its 
praises ! My feeble pen can do it but poor justice. I can only 
say, come and see for yourself ; come and visit these grand old 
hills ; come and watch the sun gild their crags and peaks in the 
early morning, and the purple shadows linger over them at even¬ 
ing. Take a sail on the fairy lake which lies cradled between 
two of these giants. I know there are naiads in this lake. I 
expect some day to come upon a group of them, and choose me a 
wife. I will paint you her picture to hang up among your dead 
and gone ancestors, in the old hall. Her’s shall be a face to shame 
your high-born beauties. She shall wear a robe like the foam on 
the sea, and a crown of water-lilies—this queen of mine ! and her 
smile shall be so sweet as to lure you to forget she is but mortal, 
and go envying me. 

Excuse my day-dream, old boy. Grecian mythology is aw¬ 
fully out of place in this practical nineteenth century, and accord¬ 
ing to historical evidence, the water-nymphs are all dead long ago, 
and so is romance. I can not describe the scenery, but when 1 
land in Old England you shall see that my brush has not been 
idle. I will bring it back to you on yards of canvas. 

One thing more and I close—the pretty girls. I hardly think 
they will interest you— you who move in the creme de la creme of 
English society ; you who are hand in glove with my Lady Isabel, 
my Lady Cecilia, etc., etc.—what do you care for these simple 
country lasses, away out here in barbarous America ? — girls who 
have not a shred of nobility to tack an air to ; whose ancestors 
have been butchers and bakers and candlestick-makers ? so I will 
pass them lightly over, with one exception—Kitty Kaw. 

You have watched the great shining stars at evening, old 
fellow ? Well, they remind me of Kitty Kaw. Her eyes are like 
the stars. Pluck from the rosebush near the fountain in your 
stately garden the purest, whitest rose ; then go down the terrace. 


4-i 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


At the left are the blush roses ; put the two together, and you 
have Kitty Kaw’s complexion. Find the richest gold and spin it 
as fine as silk, and you have her hair. Gaze upon the chiseled 
features of a Psyche, the exquisite form of a Diana, and last but 
not least, borrow the very smile of an angel, and you have Kitty 
Kaw. 

“Who is she?” 

The niece of Miss Hester Hinkley—the one blue blooded aris¬ 
tocrat of Briartown. The Hinkleys are a very old family, and 
have been here ever since the country was first settled. It is said 
that Miss Hester, the present mistress of Hinkley Park, traces 
back to her sixteenth great-grandfather, who was a baron of high 
order. The Hinkley mansion, which is built mostly after the 
English style of architecture, is a fine old pile, and to my way of 
thinking looks out of place this side of the water. However, it 
serves a purpose, and affords employment to a host of strolling 
artists. I think, on an average, there are about five hundred 
sketches of it made annually. I myself shall embrace the oppor¬ 
tunity, 

Speaking of strolling artists, thereby hangs a tail. Miss Kitty 
Kaw owes her plebeian name to one of these vagabonds whom her 
mother, Rebecca Hinkley, was foolish enough to fall in love with 
and marry. This exceedingly foolish act met with the usual 
reward. Mrs. Rebecca was disinherited by her enraged parent, 
and the property descended entire to Hester, who, if report says 
true, is too ugly to once dream of falling in love. 

Miss Kaw was adopted by her aunt, upon her mother’s death, 
which occurred but a short time ago. The gossips say the old 
dragon keeps a sharp eye out for all strolling artists, lest the 
young lady in question should possess her mother’s inclinations. 

My dear boy, enough is enough. I hear the warning dinner- 
bell, and my landlady, Mrs. Betsey Snibbs, is a punctual person, 
exceedingly fond of good cheer, given to gossip, and quite devoted 
to your humble servant. I may as well mention here that I have 
never seen Miss Kitty Kaw, and that the description I have been 
able to give to you of her, dropped from the voluble tongue of Mrs. 
Betsey, not in quite these words, but very similar. The effect is 
the same. 


BLUE BLOOD IN AMERICA- 


45 


There goes that confounded bell again ! I must close. An 
revoir , old boy, till next time. Your affectionate cousin, 

Ralph Otis. 

P. S.—Don’t fall in love with Kitty Kaw. 

My Lord Mason Grantly had just broken the seal 
to this letter. He was in the breakfast - room at 
Grantly Manor, which, by the way, was as comfort¬ 
able an apartment as one would wish to see—with its 
rich crimson-velvet hangings, its cheerful paintings of 
fruit and game, and its massive side-board loaded 
down with rare old plate which had been in the 
Grantly family for years. 

The table was laid, and at it sat Lord Mason, a 
young man of twenty-seven, or thereabouts, the pres¬ 
ent owner of Grantly Manor. It was a noticeable 
fact that my lord bore very little resemblance to his 
noble race. By the most of people, however, he was 
considered the gainer, as the former heirs had been 
rather weak-looking men, very far removed from 
beauty. They had possessed the Saxon hair and 
eyes, while my lord’s were as black as a raven’s wing. 
Theirs were stolid English faces, while my lord’s 
had all the fire and concentrated force of the Span¬ 
iard. 

“It was strange,” argued those who adhered to 
the old saying, “Like father, like son.” However, 
there was no denying but my lord was the legitimate 
offspring of the late Sir Sidney Grantly, and if he 
differed from his ancestors in the point of resem¬ 
blance, he at least possessed their strongest character¬ 
istic — an inflexible will. 


46 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


“Malcolm,” he said, addressing a white-aproned 
functionary who stood near, waiting the summons to 
serve breakfast, “ has my mother come down ? ” 

“She will be here presently, my lord.” 

“Very well ;” and the young peer resumed his 
letter. “What a poetical fellow Ralph is,” he laughed 
to himself. “ It was just so when we were class¬ 
mates at Eton; always in a day-dream. ‘The naiads’ 
ha, ha ! that is the old boy to a dot. He can not see 
the practical side of existence ; everything with him 
is couleur de rose. Well, I envy him. There must be 
a charm to such a nomadic life as he leads—wedded 
to his brush. I wish I were out in America with 
him—away from this confounded bore, society. I 
should enjoy a rest from it, however short.” 

“ ‘Pretty girls’—ah, }^es, I believe I did mention 
them, very naturally, and here he goes on ‘ one,’ only 
one—‘Kitty Kaw.’ Suggestive of crows. ‘Watch 
the stars—pluck roses—spin gold-chisel features — 
borrow the very smile of an angel’—that’s poetical, 
and it is the make-up of Kitty Kaw. You’ve got her 
down tine, old fellow.” 

“Who is she? — the niece of a veritable old 
Hecate, who watches over the innocent maiden and 
makes life a perpetual burden to her ; pleasant, 1 
must say.” 

“ ‘ Ilinkley ’—that name sounds familiar—‘ an old 
family ’—perhaps akin to the Hinkleys of Devon¬ 
shire. No telling ; there are so many loppings off 
from the genealogical tree that it is hard keeping 
track of one’s relations. Be it as it may, Miss Kitty 


BLUE BLOOD IN AMERICA. 


Kaw, from all description, is as lovely as a houri. 

How I should-; confound it all!—I say confound 

it! What does the fellow mean ?—says he’s never 
seen her. Mrs. Betsy Snibb's description, indeed !— 
I dare say she is as unlike what lie pictures her as a 

crow is unlike a bird of paradise. The d-1 take 

the fellow !—he is always raising my expectations 
only to damp them ! ” and my Lord Mason threw 
down the letter with a well-assumed air of disgust. 

“I wonder mother doesn't come. Does she in¬ 
tend to starve a fellow ? ” he commented impatiently. 
“Malcolm, go-” 

The velvet curtains to an archway at the left were 
swept aside at this moment, and a tall woman of some 
forty summers entered the room. 

My Lady Eleanore Grantly, present mistress of 
Grantly Manor, and wife of the late Lord Sidney 
Grantly, was a blonde and had in her day been called 
a beauty. But that day had long gone by, and now 
my lady was very sallow, very fretful, and very much 
of a drab. Not that she knew it—oh, no ; in her 
own estimation each succeeding year only added new. 
luster to the once famed beauty; and her assumed 
youthful manners and ways of dressing were at times 
a trifle ridiculous in all eyes save her own. 

This morning she was clad in a purple breakfast 
robe, elaborately embroidered and confined at the 
waist by a silken cord and tassel; her sallow face 
was touched with rouge, and her blonde hair hung in 
innumerable little ringlets about her head. This care¬ 
ful toilet, however, failed to conceal the traces of last 



48 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


night’s dissipation ; and withal, my lady was looking 
poorly. As she took her seat at the table, two ugly 
little wrinkles were perceptibly marked in her fore¬ 
head-something had evidently gone wrong. 

“Good morning, ma mere” said Lord Mason, 
languidly lifting his black eyebrows. “What! in 
the sullens ? Surely Jeannette has committed the un¬ 
pardonable sin this time.” 

“.Jeannette has nothing whatever to do with it,” 
snapped the lady; “ it is you, yourself, Mason.” 

“ ma mere! Under the name of Heaven, what 
offense have I committed ? ” 

The Lady Eleanore frowned and cast a warning 
glance toward the servant. 

“ You are dismissed, Malcolm ; if we require any¬ 
thing I will ring,” said my lord with a wave of his 
hand ; “ and now, ma mere” as the door closed, “ un¬ 
burden yourself. I await my doom.” 

“How can you be so frivolous, Mason,” snapped 
Lady Grantly. “What I wish to speak .of is your 
conduct toward the Lady Cecilia. It is really exe¬ 
crable ! Pray tell me what you mean by such gross 
neglect ?” 

“Mean, my dear mother?—I mean nothing at 
all.” 

“Then it is high time you did, my lord ; she will 
not endure your neglect much longer, I can assure 
you.” 

“I had no idea, ma mere , that Lady Cecilia had 
any feeling about the matter. Why should she? 
What can ‘my neglect,’ as you term it, be to her? ” 


BLUE BLOOD IN AMERICA. 


49 " 


“It is everything to her, Mason. Can you not 
see that she worships the very ground you tread up- 
on? Does she not consult your taste in all things, 
and is she not continually endeavoring to please you ? 
You may be blind to all this, my son, but you surely 
can not be blind to my dearest wish—nay, my com¬ 
mand, that you shall make her the mistress of Grantly 
Manor.” 

4 My dear mother, is not that putting it rather 
strong? How are you aware that, were I willing, 
the Lady Cecilia would consent to such an arrange¬ 
ment?” 

44 1 know she loves you, Mason, and that it is for 
your eternal good to marry her. Oh, my child, do 
not refuse me this wish ! She is good, dutiful and 
rich ; what more can you ask ? ” 

44 Confound it!—mother, I don’t wish to marry 
the Lady Cecilia. She may be a good little thing, I 
admit, but altogether too wishy-washy to suit my 
taste in a wife. I tell you I won’t marry her.” 

44 Then* I tell you”—Lady Eleanore had risen, 
pale and trembling— 44 1 tell you, Lord Mason Grantly, 
that unless you wed the Lady Cecilia, you are liable 
to become a beggar at any moment! ” 

4 4 Mother ! are you insane ? ” 

44 1 am no more insane than you ; I am in earnest. 
Refuse to marry Lady Cecilia, and, I repeat, you are 
liable to become a beggar at any moment; wed her, 
and all will be well.” 

44 Mother, explain yourself.” 

44 1 will not; not another syllable shall you learn 
3 


50 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


from my lips. I have spoken ; take your choice ; ” 
and Lady Eleanore sank back in her seat, cold and 
silent. 

Lord Mason arose from the table and pushed his 
chair impatiently aside. 

“ Have you heard from Ralph lately?” inquired 
Lady Eleanore, anxious to change the subject. 

“ Yes ; I received a letter from him this morning. 

“ Is he well ? ” 

“Quite well, and enjoying himself hugely- which 
latter is more than I can say,” muttered Lord Mason, 
savagely. 

“ Are you away, my son ? ” 

“To the stables. I shall ride to Bradleigh this 
morning, and look over those papers with Martins. 
Au revoir ; ” and my lord made his way out into the 
wide hall, where the walls were thickly hung with 
rusty suits of armor and portraits of the dead and 
gone Grantlys. 

He paused before the face of the late Lord Sidney, 
and contemplated it for some moments 'in silence. 

“We are indeed very unlike,” he said at last. “ I 
wonder that with all these broad acres I inherited none 
of his looks ; but I suppose I should count myself a 
lucky dog, for the Grantlys were not famed for their 
good looks. Confound it! what could mother have 
meant by that assertion ? How can my not marrying 
Lady Cecilia Brandon make me a beggar? The 
estate is very little incumbered, and my income aside 
from it a matter of three thousand a year. A man 


BLUE BLOOD IN AMERICA. 


51 


must be the veriest profligate to squander more than 
that. I sometimes fancy mother’s mind is failing her 
— a mild sort of lunacy, which cropped out in this 
unexpected manner. However, if it would please her 
so much, I might marry the Lady Cecilia. She is n’t 
exactly my style, but she comes from a good old fam¬ 
ily, and the Brandon and Grantly estates, united, 
would do a man proud. 

“ ‘ Watch the great shining stars ; they are like 
her eyes ; ’ not quite that. The Lady Cecilia’s eyes 
are as far removed from stars as possible. They are 
a sort of colorless pea-green, with no more sparkle to 
them than a Chinese lantern. All that sort of thing 
belongs to Kitty Kaw, Ralph’s divinity ; or properly 
speaking, to the picture of his imagination. No, my 
dear boy, Lady Cecilia is of this earth, as they make 
’em, while your divinity belongs to the world of rose- 
colored fables.” 

Thus soliloquising, Lord Mason made his way to 
the stables, and mounting his jet-black steed, was 
soon galloping away through the pleasant morning air 
towards Bradleigh. 

Lady Eleanore Grantly watched him depart, from 
behind the silken curtains of her boudoir window. 
“I have warned him,” she murmured, “ and he will 
heed me. Oh, my boy, if I can only save you and 
keep my secret, I shall be more than satisfied.” She 
turned away as the rider disappeared through the 
iron gates, and rang for her maid. “Jeannette,” she 
commanded, “ lay out the maize-colored silk and mjr 


4 


52 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


amethysts ; I shall dress for a drive* and — Stay ! tell 
John to cull the choicest- flowers the conservatory 
affords, and arrange them into a bouquet. 

“I shall make it all right,” she said to herself. 
44 The little simpleton will be pleased with the flowers 
— doubly so when I tell her Mason sent them, as I 
certainly shall. If he will not work for himself, his 
mother must, for him.”' 

With this sage conclusion my Lady Eleanore 
placed herself under the hands of the ingenious Jean¬ 
nette, and at the end of an hour emerged resplendent 
in the maize-colored silk, with a necklace of glittering 
amethysts encircling her sallow throat. 

A suggestion that the color of her robe was ex¬ 
ceedingly like that of her complexion would have 
filled my lady with .horror ; and it was well that the 
remark of her maid passed unheard: “ She’s just 
like a full-blown daffodil! ” 

Blissfully unconscious and thinking herself look¬ 
ing extremely youthful and piquant, Lady Grantly 
entered her carriage and was driven rapidly towards 
Brandon Park, where she hoped with skillful maneu¬ 
vers to effectually propitiate Lady Cecilia, and again 
secure favor for her son. 


A SKELETON IN THE SAFE. 


53 


CHAPTER VI. 


A SKELETON IN THE SAFE. 


Ob, what a tangled web we weave, 
When first we practice to deceive.” 


HILE the Lady Eleanore is on her way to 



V V Brandon Park, her son, Lord Mason, was 
seated in a dingy little law office at Bradleigh, over¬ 
looking a pile of musty deeds. 

“How about that law-suit, Martins?” he asked, 
presently, lifting his eyes from the paper he is ex¬ 
amining, and letting them fall upon the lawyer sitting 
opposite, busily writing. 

Martins put his pen behind his ear, brushed up his 
hair in front, nervously, with one hand—a peculiarity 
the lawyer’s own—and replied, slowly: 

“ Well, my lord, it is not decided yet, nor like to 
be. They can not find their missing man, nor bring 
forward any satisfactory evidence of his death.” 

“ I understand—the estate can not be settled until 
he is found or his death proven ? ” 

“Exactly, my lord; until the missing link is sup¬ 
plied they will be forced to suspend all judgment.” 

“It is very strange that Richard Grandale could 
have dropped out of existence so completely that not 
the slightest trace of him can be found.” 

“ Strange—but true, my lord. The best detect- 


54 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


ives here, and on the continent, have made every 
effort to find him, but to no purpose.” 

“ He may have gone to America.” 

“So they thought, my lord, and have searched 
there also. It is a large sum of money to throw over 
for the sake of one man, but it will have to be done. 
The will reads : 4 Unless Richard Grandale be found, 

or absolute proof of his death given within two years 
of the prescribed time, the estate is to be sold and the 
valuation thereof to be devoted to charitable pur¬ 
poses.’ It is in plain black and white—there is no 
dodging it; ” and lawyer Martins removed the pen 
from behind his ear and resumed his copying. 

Lord Mason put aside his papers and drew out an 
elegant gold repeater. 

“Jupiter! ” he exclaimed ; “here it is past twelve, 
and I was to meet Grimby at precisely that hour. I 
must make haste. I will call again to-morrow, Mar¬ 
tins, and we will proceed in our examination.” 

The lawyer bowed his head in token of assent, 
without taking the trouble to glance up from his 
work. 

The door of the musty, dusty office closed behind 
my lord, and he sauntered down the passage hum¬ 
ming a fragment of the latest opera. 

He had scarcely gotten out of hearing, when the 
lawyer closed his book and getting down from his 
stool crept cautiously to the door and secured it. 
“Ah-ha, my lord !” he chuckled, while a peculiar 
look—half malice and half cunning—overspread his 
sallow face ; “ you comment upon the strangeness of 


* t 




A SKELETON IN THE SAFE. 55 

this world. Well, it is strange ; half of you grand 
people stand over loaded mines, where the least pull 
on the right wire would blow you into ten thousand 
fragments. We lawyers keep your secrets for you at 
the price of a beggarly fee and a civil nod of your 
head in passing. I wonder what your lordship would 
say to this f ” and he opened a metallic safe and drew 
forth a yellow document which he spread out upon 
the table and examined with great interest. 

“ I presume you are not aware that one little word 
from me could oust you, my lord, completely oust you 
from your soft nest ?—but there is no fear of me ” 
(refolding the paper); U I am well paid to keep the se¬ 
cret. You are a fine fellow and may as well have the 
estate as the next. Then, you patronize me ; per¬ 
haps, if things were changed, the new owner might 
look completely over my head—though he should 
bear me a good turn for feathering his nest so com¬ 
fortably. No, you are safe, my lord ; but I shall 
raise my price a little—say a thousand pounds. The 
Lady Eleanore will pay. I believe she would sacri¬ 
fice her last shilling to keep this secret. Yes, it is 
well worth a thousand pounds more. I will speak to 
her about it at my earliest opportunity ; ” and with a 
satisfied grin, lawyer Martins reiocked the paper in 
the metallic safe, and taking up the “ Morning Post” 
was soon lost in the depths of a long-winded parlia¬ 
mentary debate. 

In the elegant drawing-room at Brandon Park, 
with its violet silk hangings, its carpet of white vel¬ 
vet, its furniture upholstered in white and violet, sat 


56 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


Lady Eleanore Grantly, awaiting the appearance of 
Lady Cecilia. 

Even my lady’s critical taste could find no fault 
with this charmingly arranged apartment, as her 
pleased eyes wandered over its appointments. 

“It is grander than Grantly Manor,” she men¬ 
tally commented ; “ and it all belongs to a puny girl 
who loves my son. It is well. I wonder ”—glancing 
impatiently at a little ormula clock upon the pan an 
marble mantel—“that she does not come ; it is al¬ 
ready past twelve. ” 

At this very moment a door opened and the object 
of her cogitations entered the room. 

Lady Cecilia Brandon was the heiress of Brandon 
Park—a vast estate which stretched away for miles 
to join that of Grantly Manor. With all this in her 
favor, not the most lenient of critics could have pro¬ 
nounced her anything but plain. Her’s was a drab 
little face, unquestionably marred by small eyes, a 
pug nose and a wide mouth. These defects, however, 
might have been partially redeemed had she pos¬ 
sessed one spark of animation ; but alas ! a feeble 
lifting of the eyebrows and a sickly smile was all 
Lady Cecilia ever affected. 

This morning she was dressed in a pure white 
muslin robe, handsomely embroidered and trimmed 
with rare old lace ; so if not exactly an inviting sight, 
she was far from being a disagreeable one. The little 
lady had evidently passed a bad night, for her eyelids 
were red and swollen, and her dumpy little nose had 
a very suspicious tint. The dull eyes brightened, 


A SKELETON IN THE SAFE. 


57 


however, as they rested upon Lady Grantly. “Oh, 
it is you ? ” she exclaimed, in a tone of relief. “Hetty 
did not tell me, and I was so afraid it was that prinky 
Ellen Parker, or some other awful, disagreeable old 
thing ! ” 

“ Then I infer that I am neither disagreeable nor 
old in your eyes, ma chere , but a welcome visitor,” 
said the lady, rising and kissing the pale little face 
affectionately. 4 4 However, I should not have vent¬ 
ured out so early this morning, but for Mason, who 
was so anxious to learn your health. See what beau¬ 
tiful flowers he has sent you, petite. He picked and 
arranged them, eveiy one, himself. The silly boy 
did not wish me to tell you of this, for fear you 
would thank him. I really never saw any one so averse 
to being thanked as Mason is. He never wishes one 
—even distantly—to refer to his gifts ; so don’t men¬ 
tion this for the world, chere , as the poor child would 
never be able to pluck up the courage to send you 
more. You are blushing, petite. I almost believe 
you do care something for my boy, who loves you to 
distraction. Don’t for an instant mind his little neg¬ 
lect of last evening; it arose from pure jealousy, on 
account of Sir Hantley. You danced with him once 
too often, ma petite , and the poor boy went nearly 
wild.” 

“I’m sure he danced the whole evening with that 
horrid Genevieve Vintly,” pouted Lady Cecilia. 

“I dare sa y, petite, that’s a man’s way. When 
they are jealous, they always manifest it by flying off 
to some other woman; but Lord Mason really pay- 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


58 

ing attention to Genevieve Vintly is too preposterous ! 
Indeed, to my certain knowledge, he considers her a 
gawky, ill-bred creature, and as plain as a pipe-stem. 
He declares that you and she are as nearly alike as a 
white rose and a daffodil.” (Lady Grantly forgot to 
add that the daffodil represented Lady Cecilia.) 

“ Did he say that ? ” asked the little lady. “ Oh, 
tell me, dear Lady Grantly, did he really compare me 
to a white rose ? ” 

“ Yes, ma petite, he really did—to a delicate 
white rose. Pretty, isn’t it?” Mason always pos¬ 
sessed fine fancies ; but then, who could look on you 
and not call you fair ? ” 

“I don’t know,” said Lady Cecilia doubtfully 
“ Some people call me homely.” 

“ Homely ! ” exclaimed Lady Grantly, lifting her 
eyes in mock horror. u It’s pure envy, my dear, 
pure envy ! You have the sweetest complexion, the 
most lovely eyes I ever beheld ; and what is more, 
you won’t fade young. In fact, my dear, I have an 
idea that each succeeding year will only add to your 
good looks, as it has to mine. I am not vain, but I 
know I do n’t fade. Women of our stamp never do. 
We go down to our graves, carrying our girlish looks 
with us. We should be thankful, very thankful, 
indeed,” and Lady Grantly surveyed her sallow face 
complacently in the pier glass opposite. 

“But time flies, petite. I am due at Lady Hart¬ 
ley’s at five, and I shall barely have time to return 
home and dress. Our chat has been so pleasant that 
I came near forgetting my errand, which is that y#u 


A SKELETON IN THE SAFE. 


59 


shall dine with us to-morrow. Only a few guests 
invited ; quite a family gathering. You will be sure 
to come petite f That is*right; now kiss me, for I 
must go. Let me have one to carry to Mason ? Oh, 
. you won’t ? you little silly ! I predict the day is not 
far distant when you will be less chary of those 
kisses ; but bon jour , ” and Lady Grantly sailed down 
the terraced walk to her carriage, stopping ever now 
and then to blow a kiss from her gloved finger-tips 
to the little figure watching her from the wide piazza. 

“All is well,” she murmured. “The little fool 
worships the very ground he walks upon. She would 
marry him to-morrow ; and as for Mason, he must 
— he shall — yield to my wishes. Home, James.” 


60 


A FAIR PIEBEIAN 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE ROVING ARTIST. 

I do remember, too, 

She told me of a mermaid once, that lay 
Along the scooped side of a hollow wave, 

Singing such dulcet music, that the ear, 

Like a woo’d damsel, trembled with delight. 

—Sir A. Hunt's Julian. 

i i T~)ERSEPHONE has come back,” said Kitty 
-L Kaw, stooping to pluck a cluster of violets 
and daisies ; “ and these darlings sprang up under her 
white feet as she went tripping through the meadow. 
See, how glad everything looks — Demeter is re¬ 
joicing over her child’s return. Ah, me ! how pleas¬ 
ant to be a lovely goddess; only, I should not like 
old Pluto to marry me and carry me off to Hades in 
spite of myself; still, almost any fate is preferable to 
beiii^ Katherine Kaw and living with aunt Hester 
H ink ley. 

“Let me see,” and the young lady counted dili¬ 
gently upon her white fingers ; “I have been here 
just eighteen days—it is May now—and we have had 
just thirteen quarrels. I presume we should have had 
more, only I was shut up four days in my room, and 
the other one day aunt Hester went away. I declare, 
it’s very little enjoyment I get out of life. I dare say 
I shall receive a fine scolding for running away this 
afternoon. ‘ Katherine,’ the cat will inquire at the 
tea-table, ‘ have you been netting ? ’ 


THE ROVING ARTIST. 


61 


“Netting, indeed! oh, howl hate it!” and Miss 
Kitty made a disdainful little moue. “How could 
Penelope ever endured to pull out her netting every 
night, only to begin all over again the next day. It 
must have become dreadfully tedious ; but then it 
was all for love, and one can even die for that—so the 
poets sing. I wonder if I could net twenty years, all 
for love ? No telling what I might do ; but I must 
confess, I feel immensely unlike it now. I really 
hope I shall never fall in love—deep down right in 
love—for it must be a very uncomfortable state to be 
in. However, I suppose I am liable to, as the disease 
has been infectious ever since Adam conceived a 
fancy for Eve. Who knows but I may do as poor 
mamma did—make another dreadful mesalliance — 
marry a strolling artist. I hardly think I should dare 
to, though, as a second stain upon our family es¬ 
cutcheon would certainly cause all the defunct Hink- 
leys to rise out of their graves, and every night I 
should awake to find a supernatural row of them 
ranged about my bed—all pointing the finger of shame 
at me. It would give me a delightful sensation to 
watch them. Of course the blue bloodiest one, which 
would be my seventeenth great grandfather, would 
hold the place of honor; and so on down. They 
would all’ be dressed in long white robes, and have 
blue lights dancing about their heads. The scene 
would beggar a pyrotechnic exhibition; but I 
shouldn’t enjoy it—no, I really shouldn’t. 

“Then, on the other hand, if there were no grand¬ 
fathers concerned in the case, nor any family es- 


62 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


eutcheon to preserve, I should hardly care to marry 
a strolling artist, for they are always so dreadfully 
poor. It wouldn’t agree with my constitution to live 
on paint. I should tire of sticking my head in at the 
studio door every day and inquiring : ‘Which shall 
it be for dinner, my love, Vandyke brown with ultra- 
marine and ochre, or ultramarine with cadmium and 
vermillion ? ’ 

“ No, I couldn’t endure it. I should greatly pre¬ 
fer to be rich and have carriages and servants and a 
grand house to live in. 

“Mercy on me!” exclaimed Miss Kitty, suddenly 
rising from her reclining posture under an old oak 
tree, and cutting the thread of her soliloquy short; 
“I see one now—I see a man! and he is coming 
straight towards this place. It is one of those abom¬ 
inable strolling artists, as I live ! I recognize him by 
his camp-stool and sketch-book. Oh, dear, where 
shall I fly to ! I must away before he discovers me, 
falls in love with me, steals my heart from me—be¬ 
fore he gets a rope ladder to my window and elopes 
with me ! ” and lifting the skirt to her dainty white 
robe just high enough to show the prettiest little 
slippered feet in the world, the affrighted maiden 
scampered away to her boat which lay concealed 
among the bushes that bordered the banks of Mer¬ 
maid Isle. 

“‘He that fights, and runs away, shall live to 
fight another day,’” she quoted, laughingly, as she 
seated herself and gathered up the oars; “I didn’t 



THE ROVING ARTIST 


63 


exactly fight this time, but I ran away, which signi¬ 
fies that I may return to fight another day. ” 

Mr. Ralph Otis, utterly unconscious of the danger 
he had escaped—of falling in love, etc.—sauntered 
carelessly on towards the spot just vacated for his 
benefit by Miss Kitty Kaw. Planting his camp stool 
under the very tree where that young lady had so 
lately reclined, he seated himself, and lighting a cigar 
—man’s ever solitary companion—leaned lazily back 
and gave himself up to thought. 

“I am really sorry for the old boy,” said that 
gentleman, presently, removing the cigar from his 
mouth and gazing at it intently. “ The little Bran¬ 
don party isn’t exactly to my fancy, either ; but the 
mater is stubborn, and I imagine Mason is done for. 
Let me see, what does he say ? ” and Mr. Otis pro¬ 
duced a crest-mounted envelope, from which lie drew 
forth a crest-mounted sheet closely written upon. 

Dear Old Fellow : 

Yours was received aud contents noted. You happy-go- 
lucky-dog ! I fairly envy you your Bohemian life—so free from 
care, and with nothing to do but to paint and enjoy yourself; 
while I am continually dragged at the wheel of society, and made 
a martyr of in every possible way. 

Of course there has been the same routine of amusements 
since you left—hunting, shooting, the turf, balls, receptions, 
champetres of late, etc., etc.; but, my dear boy, it palls—it palls. 
To speak the plain truth, I am heartily sick of the whole business, 
and should enjoy nothing better than an entire change of scene, 
air and country. 

“Whenthe gods wage war, woe betide the unfortunate.” To 
complete my misery, old boy, the mater has taken^a fancy into 


64 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


her head towed me (her only hopeful), and great heavens! to 
that wishy-washy, simpering, smirking, little fool of a Cecilia 
Brandon! Picture that woman for a wife —my wife of all others! 
It is enough to make a man shudder; but I never saw the mater 
more determined, and you know the old saying, my boy— 


“Where Is the man who has the power and skill 
To stem the torrent of a woman’s will? 

For if she will, she will, you may depend on’t; 

And if she won’t, she won’t, and there’s the end on’t.” 

I am really afraid that between them both (unless T fly) I 
shall be uuable to run the gauntlet. Confound it! the whole 
thing seems settled already, and without my raising a finger. 
Wishy-w T ashy appears very much in love with me, and takes it 
hard if I do not devote myself especially to her; although I never 
gave the little simple one wink of encouragement. Now if it 
were your Kitty Kaw, or some other divinity akin to her, I might 
endure it. That was a pretty idea about the- stars resembling her 
eyes—but it won’t wash. Heaven only know r s what women of 
the present day are composed of—I don't; but depend upon it, 
in this case, it was belladonna. Still, I should like to see her. 
You say her aunt is a Hinkley—of Devonshire? A fine old fam¬ 
ily, that—knighted during the reign of Henry the Eighth, by 
Wolsey. Send me a sketch of Hinkley Park, as you call it. 

You remember the Grandale lawsuit? It is impossible, as 
yet, to discover the slightest trace of Richard Grandale. Martins 
has given up in despair, while I cherish but a faint hope. I do 
wish they might find him; I feel unaccountably interested in the 
case. Hunt for him among the fossils of Briartowm, my boy; en¬ 
quire of the Mrs. Betsy Snibbs—she may know. I wish I was 
there to help you. Should the mater prove too strong, I may fly 
to you. Until then, adieu. 

Yours affectionately, 

Mason Grantly. 

“That letter,” said Mr. Otis, replacing it in the 
envelope and returning it to his pocket, shows the fal- 


THE ROVING ARTIST. 


65 


lacy of we poor mortals ever expecting to obtain that 
precious boon — contentment. What more, let me 
ask, could my Lord Mason Grantly desire than he 
already possesses ? He has honor, riches and one ot 
the finest old ancestral homes in Lincolnshire, England, 
and yet ” (Mr. Ralph Otis executed a low, peculiar 
whistle, as if to give vent to his surprise), “thatvery 
lord goes envying me my low estate. It is a pity, 
cousin mine, that we can not change places for a time, 
if only to teach you a useful lesson. But I do not 
envy you ; I envy no one,” he added, his eyes dream¬ 
ily following the line of the distant hills. “Art is 
glorious, and well worth living for. It is better than 
riches. No, my lord, I would not change places with 
you. I prefer my quiet, roving life, to your restless 
one. Mine suits me, 4 for I love all Nature’s bounte¬ 
ous gifts—from yonder mountain’s rugged peaks, 
to a daisy’s star-shaped shadow on the naked stone.’ 
I had rather dream my dreams and realise them in 
the tracery of my brush ; I had rather paint this 
grand old scenery than pay my court to a Lady 
Cecilia. When I choose me a wife, it shall not be my 
lady, but my love. My lady looks for a long rent- 
roll and stately mansion to match her own, while my 
love sings blithely under a cottage-roof of thatch, 
and dreams not of riches that were never hers. Hark ! 
What is that ? ” 

Ralph Otis sprang from his seat and listened 
eagerly. Over the water came floating a fresh, young 
voice, singing in plaintive tones a sweet old Scottish 
song: 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


66 


“ Hame, hame, hamc ! oh, hame fain wad I be i 
Oh, hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie ! 

When the flower is i’ the bud an’ the leaf is on the tree, 

The lark shall sing me hame to my ain countrie. 

Hame, hame, hame, oh, fain wad I be ! 

©h, hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie.” 

His eye caught the gleam of a white robe and the 
flutter of a black ribbon ; then the little skiff turned 
the point, and only the soft, sweet voice was wafted 
back to him, growing fainter and fainter until it died 
away in the distance. 

“Jupiter! what a song!” exclaimed Mr. Otis, 
more emphatically than elegantly. “I can almost 
fancy it is the banished Jacobite himself mourning 
for his ‘hame, hame, hame.’ It is said that Walter 
Scott could never listen to that song without shedding 
tears. I wish he could have heard this siren sing it, 
for surely it is nothing less than a siren who haunts 
this lake and sings in such heavenly tones. 

“Shall I plunge in after her, or shall I stop my 
ears and sail away from this dangerous vicinity as 
quickly as possible ? Ah, I wish she might sing once 
more ! Methinks ’t would be sweet indeed, to be lured 
to some enchanted isle, in the wake of such a voice. I 
must write to Mason that I have at last discovered a 
veritable siren. If I remember aright, the old boy 
used to be skeptical, when we were at Eton, concern¬ 
ing that wonderful tale in the ‘Odyssey.’ He shall 
be brought to a knowledge of its truth.” 

Shouldering his camp-stool and with sketch-book 
in hand, Ralph Otis went slowly homeward through 


THE ROVING ARTIST. 


67 


the soft early twilight, whistling in an undertone 
Kitty Kaw’s song : 

“ Hame, liame, hame, to my ain countrie.” 

That very evening the following characteristic 
epistle was indited to my Lord Mason Grantly: 

Dear Old Boy : Tis the fashion to emigrate to America — 
so very fashionable that the discovery I am about to inform you 
of has given me but a momentary shock. 

My boy, the sirens are here—the veritable sirens that sat on 
the rocks and by their melodious voices sought to allure Ulysse* 
to the enchanted island. I swear to you that I heard one singing 
this very evening, and caught the golden gleam of her hair as she 
floated along. This lake is her dominion. Like a vast mirror it 
reflects her fair face, and as she skims over its surface in her fairy 
boat, the very fishes come up to frolic about her and listen to her. 
When her voice first broke upon my ear, I had all I could do to 
restrain myself from plunging in after her, and thereby sacrificing 
my life. In case this should occur again and I not be able to 
resist, I have borrowed ear-stoppers in the shape of cotton bat¬ 
ting from Mrs. Betsy Snibbs. By the way, that oracle sniffs up 
her nose at my idea, and declares my siren is no less than our 
mutual divinity, Kitty Kaw. But I do not believe her. No mor¬ 
tal maiden could sing like that. It is surely a siren turned fash¬ 
ionable, and emigrated to America. 

Unfortunately I can give you no clue of Richard Grandale. 
Briartown is utterly ignorant of the name and the oracle is mum, 
although she did suggest that I might go up to the graveyard 
and read the tombstones, as two or three had died and was buried 
there, that she hadn’t taken “no reckoning of.” I followed her 
very excellent advice, but came back disappointed. Nothing was 
to be learned. It looks likely that the “able-bodied paupers ” will 
soon have an opportunity to chuckle openly over a thick slice of 
old Sir Richard’s wealth. Not a deserving poor person will 
receive a stiver, old boy ; but gormandized missions, superinten- 


68 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


dents of charitable institutions, etc., etc., will pocket the cash. 
So the world goes ! Heigho ! To be sure, my boy, obey the 
mater, marry the little Brandon, settle down and be happy. She 
is not as beautiful as my Kitty Kaw, but she is rich, which is 
comme ilfaut. 

However, should the pressure prove too strong, and you 
utterly refuse to be sacrificed, fly to the ever-open arms of your 
humble cousin. 

The wee sma’ hours are upon me. Adieu, old fellow, adieu. 

Yours affectionately, Ralph Otis. 


AN INDIGNANT NIECE. 


69 


CHAPTER VIII. 

AN INDIGNANT NIECE. 

Tradition’s pages 

Tell not the planting of thy parent tree.—H alleck. 

I SHOULD be pleased to know,” said Miss Hester 
Hinkley, “ who your father was?” She was 
seated bolt upright on one of the uncomfortable-look¬ 
ing tete-a-tetes in the great drawing-room at Hinkley 
Park, eyeing her pretty niece severely. Miss Kitty 
was seated just opposite, busily employed in twisting 
one long golden curl over a snowy finger. 

“I believe,” answered that young lady demurely, 
“ his name was Richard Kaw.” 

“ Richard Kaw ! ” sniffed Miss Hester in supreme 
contempt; u and who, pray tell me, was Richard 
Kaw?” 

“My father.” 

Miss Hester jerked off her spectacles and wiped 
them ; replacing them squarely upon her nose, she 
gazed long and steadily through them at her refract¬ 
ory young relative. 

“Where did he spring from?” she inquired at 
length, in such a sepulchral tone that it seemed to 
Kitty as if one of the dead and gone grandfathers had 
suddenly risen and spoken for her. 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


70 


“I do not know,” answered the culprit, consider¬ 
ably startled. 

“Nor any one else,” continued Miss Hinkley. 
“He was an upstart—one of the vulgar mass. His 
grandfathers might have been tinkers or tailors for 
all that — *” 

“And have been none the worse for it,” broke in 
Kitty, indignantly. “I do not thank you, aunt 
Hester Hinkley, to speak ill of my father. He was at 
least a gentleman.” 

“ A gentleman ! ” sneered Miss Hester ; “a snob, 
you should say, an out-and-out snob! I have no 
patience or respect for a man without a pedigree.” 

Miss Kitty made no reply to this, but began qui¬ 
etly to unwind the soft golden curl from her finger. 

“Katherine,” said Miss Hester firmly, “it is my 
wish—nay, command—that you drop once and for all 
the detestable and plebeian name of Kaw, and adopt 
that of your mother—Hinkley.” 

Kitty sprang to her feet, her eyes ablaze with 
anger. “What! ” she exclaimed indignantly, “change 
my lawful name, my father’s name, the name my 
mother loved and honored, for that of Hinkley ! You 
mistake me, aunt Hester, if you suppose for one 
instant that I would do such a thing.” 

“ Very well,” remarked Miss Hinkley, seemingly 
not at all discomposed by this outburst; “you are 
aware of my command, Katherine. A Kaw shall 
never inherit Hinkley Park. You shall never be 
acknowledged as my heir until you once and for all 
renounce that name.” 


AN INDIGNANT NMfiCE. 


71 


“Then I shall never be acknowledged as your 
heir, aunt Hester, for I would not give up my own 
name for a thousand Hinkley Parks.” 

“ As you see fit, Katherine ! You are standing in 
your own light! ” and Miss Hester resumed her net¬ 
ting wfith this wdse admonition : If that young lady 
had finished dawdling in that shiftless manner with 
her hair, she should advise her to take her work in 
hand. 

Miss Kaw picked up the despised netting and very 
ungraciously left the room. 

“ I shan’t net! I won’t net! ” she exclaimed spite¬ 
fully to herself as soon as she was safely out of Miss 
Hester’s hearing, “and she needn’t think she can 
make me ! I am going to walk,” and snatching her 
hat from its peg in the hall, she ran hastily down the 
terrace out into the park, her heart filled to overflow¬ 
ing, with hurt, angry feelings. 

“Poor papa,” she murmured, brushing away the 
great tears that kept slipping down her cheeks. “ Oh, 
what was there against you that I should be asked to 
give up your dear name ? Did you think I would do 
it? No ! not for all the 'wealth of the Indies ; not for 
a thousand million Hinkley Parks ! Katherine Hink¬ 
ley, indeed! ” (her mood suddenly changing.) “ That 
was just like aunt Hester — still harping. I never 
in all my life saw any one who laid so much stress 
upon family as she does. I can not see, for my part, 
if people behave themselves, it should make any dif¬ 
ference whether their blood is blue, pink or yellow. 
I am sure I don’t care what color mine is; but that 


72 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


shows that I am plebeian in my ideas—‘ very plebe¬ 
ian,’ as aunt Hester would have it. I suppose I take 
it all from the Kaws, whoever they may have been. 
Papa was the only one I ever heard of, though, and 
mamma once hinted to me that that was not his real 
name. How funny if we should sometime find out 
that lie had as blue blood in his veins as aunt Hester 
ever dared to boast of. Wouldn’t she droop her 
feathers then? ” and Miss Kitty laughed musically at 
the thought of Miss Hester’s would-be chagrin. 

Forgetting her sorrow and anger in the laugh, the 
girl wandered away, singing a soft low ditty to her¬ 
self. Suddenly there was a crash of something fall¬ 
ing. She started back in amazement. In her preoc¬ 
cupation Miss Kitty had come straight upon a stroll¬ 
ing artist, passing in such close proximity to him as 
to overturn his portable easel. 

“Oh, my!” ejaculated that young lady, aghast. 

“No harm done,” said the young man (for it was 
a young man ; Kitty had noted this at the first), rais¬ 
ing his hat politely, then stooping to pick up the 
fallen easel. “Pray excuse my intrusion in the park. 
It was taking an unwarrantable liberty, but the view 
across the lake was so charming from this point that 
I could not resist the temptation.” 

Kitty Kaw felt flurried and nervous. Had not 
aunt Hester warned her repeatedly in cutting sarcasm 
against this sort of man ? What should she do ? pass 
him by in haughty silence, or acknowledge his apology 
by supplementing one of her own ? Another stolen 
glance ; Kitty decided to be civil. 


AN INDIGNANT NIECE. 


73 


4 4 You have a perfect right in the park ; it is open 
to every one,” she replied, sweetly, “and I really 
hope my awkwardness in upsetting the easel has not 
damaged your picture.” 

“Not in the least,” said the artist. 

“May I look at it ? ” inquired the young lady. 

“Oh, certainly,” and he held up for her inspec¬ 
tion his morning’s sketch. 

“It is "the cove!” exclaimed Kitty, in delight 
“How beautiful it is ! I love pictures very much. 
My father was an artist ” 

“Indeed,” said the young man, his eyes resting 
upon the sweet face ; “ I should have thought as 
much.” 

“ Why?” she asked. 

“ Because you remind me of an artist’s daughter. 
Would you like to look through my sketch-book ? ” 
(holding it toward her.) “The sketches are poor, as 
most of them were made in mv college days. Still 
you may find something interesting, as you are so 
fond of pictures.” 

Kitty hesitated: Would it be just right and 
proper to stay and look through this young man’s 
sketch-book? She would dearly love to see the pict¬ 
ures. Well, what was the harm? She decided to* 
remain. 

“Thank you,” she said, taking the book and ac¬ 
cepting the proffered camp-stool. 

The sketches were varied bits of English scenery, 
and full of interest to Kitty. “What a beautiful 
place ! ” she exclaimed suddenly. 

4 


74 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


“That,” said the artist, glancing over her shoul¬ 
der, “is Grantly Manor, in Lincolnshire, England ; 
and the property of Lord Mason Grantly—a cousin 
of mine. We were class-mates at Eton, and I was 
often at the manor ; still, it can not equal this,” 
(taking the book from her and turning to another 
sketch,) “ ‘Castle Vale’—the most beautiful country 
seat in all England. ” 

The girl’s eyes lit up with pleasure as they rested 
upon a noble old castle, with its turrets and gables 
rising above the tall trees that environed it. 

“ To whom does it belong ? ” she asked. 

“ At present it is without an owner—being held in 
trust. It was formerly the property of Count Rich¬ 
ard Grandale—an old man, enormously rich. He is 
dead now ; and by a singular clause in his will, the 
property stands, as I have told you, without an own¬ 
er. The story goes—that old Count Richard had one 
grandson—a namesake—whose parents dying when 
he was young, was adopted by his grandfather and 
lived at Castle Yale. The old man loved him very 
tenderly; but as young Richard grew to manhood, 
trouble arose between them ; they quarreled fiercely, 
and suddenly the young man disappeared to return 
no more. Old Count Richard never mentioned his 
name from the hour he left Castle Vale till his death ; 
and all supposed that he had forgotten him. But 
they were mistaken ; for upon reading the will it was 
found that—possessing no near relative aside from 
his grandson, and the estate not being entailed—the 
property was to be divided among distant heirs, up- 


AN INDIGNANT NIECE. 


75 


on a certain condition—namely: that the missing 
Richard Grandale be found, or satisfactory proofs 
of his death given within two years. In case of 
their failing to find Richard Grandale, or to give sat¬ 
isfactory proofs of his death, the whole amount, some 
six millions, went to charitable purposes. However, 
if Richard Grandale should be found, or an heir, he 
was to assume the title and inherit ftr his share Cas¬ 
tle Vale and one million in gold—while the rest was 
to be equally divided among the said heirs.” 

“ I do hope they will find him,” said Kitty, earn¬ 
estly. 

“Or an heir,” put in the young man, “ which 
would serve the same purpose. It does seem a pity 
that beautiful Castle Vale should fall into the hands 
of greedy executors, who will eat all the meat and 
content themselves by throwing the bones to the poor. 
Such seems to be the prevailing fashion at the present 
day.” 

“If Castle Vale were only mine,” mused Kitty. 

“ What would you do ? ” he asked. 

“I would throw open all its wide doors and halls, 
and every one that came should be welcome—even 
the poorest beggar. Not one should go away empty- 

handed ; and I would-” Kitty paused—suddenly 

remembering that she was addressing a stranger. 

“It is a pity you are not the heir,” he said, laugh¬ 
ing ; “Castle Vale is sadly in need of such a mis¬ 
tress, and as for a lord-” 

The young lady was beginning to realize the enor¬ 
mity of her misdemeanor. She had certainly spent 


76 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


one 'half hour conversing pleasantly (she could but 
admit it had been pleasantly) with a strolling artist. 
It would never do. She froze instantly. “Good 
morning,” she said in the iciest of toner—handing 
him the sketch book. 

‘ c May I not hope to see you again ? ” inquired the 
young man, eagerly. 

“No,” returned Kitty, plainly—determined to in¬ 
stantly put down all presumptuous ideas; “ no young 
man need expect to meet me. I am living in entire 
seclusion—the companion of Miss Hester Hinkley.” 

“Ah, excuse me,” he remarked, with an amused 
twinkle in his eye ; “ but if I have understood aright, 
Miss Hinkley is considerably your senior ? ” 

“Between minds that are akin, the disparity of a 
few years is as nothing,” said Miss Kitty, loftily. 
“There may be a slight difference in our ages, but 
we are very nearly alike in our ways. Good morn¬ 
ing, sir.” 

“Good morning, madam,” and the young man 
took off his hat, and bowed as low and respectfully 
as if she were a hundred years his senior. 

“ I think that extinguished him,” laughed Kitty 
to herself, “when he found I was boon companion to 
aunt Hester. I did her ways to perfection ; and I 
must keep them by me, for such young men are dan¬ 
gerous. This one has fine eyes, and if there is any¬ 
thing I do admire it is fine eyes.” 

The artist stood as she had left him, watching her 
retreating form. “ As beautiful as a houri! ” he ex¬ 
claimed to himself; “her face is a perfect picture. 


AN INDIGNANT NIECE. 


77 


So this is Mrs. Snibbs’ divinity—the veritable Kitty 
Kaw. She is an odd mixture of the school-girl and 
woman. How she took on that old Hecate’s airs. 
My little lady, I shall endeavor to see you again in 
spite of your attempt to freeze me.” 


78 


A PAIR PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE DISCOVERED AMBROTYPE. 


I’ll keep this secret from the world 
As warily as those that deal lu poison, 
Keep poison from their children. 


— Webster's Duchess o/Malfy. 


AWYER MARTINS, my lady,” announced the 



-J-J pompous butler—pausing, for a moment, in the 
open doorway of the great drawing-room of Grantly 
Manor. 

The Lady Eleanore gave a violent start, as if some 
inward fear had suddenly possessed her; then sank 
hack into her chair, pale to the very lips. “ What 
does he wish, James ? ” she asked, in an agitated 
voice. 

“To see you, my lady, upon private business. 
He bade me particularly to say, ‘private.’” 

One hand closed spasmodically over the other 
lying so idly in my lady’s lap, and it was with an 
effort that she steadied her voice to answer with her 
usual calmness: “Very well; show him into the 
library, James. I will come presently.” 

The domestic automaton bow T ed respectfully and 
walked away to deliver his message to the waiting 
Mr. Martins, without once seeming to have noticed 
his mistress’ agitation. 

Lady Eleanore watched him depart, and the 


THE DISCOVERED AMBROTYPE T9 

frightened look came back to her face. “What can 
he want this time ? ” she murmured, pacing nervously 
up and down the great room. “ Oh, how I fear this 
man ! Can it be—no, it can not be—that he is about 
to disclose my secret ! He wishes to see me on pri¬ 
vate business. Oh, how I dread this interview! 
But I must go to him ; ” and with one hand pressed 
tightly against her fast-beating heart, Lady Eleanore 
passed down the wide hall, and opening the library 
door, entered. 

So slight was her step, that the lawyer had not no¬ 
ticed her entrance. He stood with his back towards 
the door, deeply engaged in contemplating a portrait 
of Lady Eleanore, in her youthful days, which hung 
over the marble mantel. 

“He has her features,” he soliloquised aloud; 
“ but his eyes, and expression, are his father’s own.” 

A spasm of terror contracted Lady Grantly’s face, 
which, even through the rouge that dyed her faded 
cheeks, blanched a sickly white. She stretched out 
one trembling hand, in a bewildered way, as if to 
save herself from falling. It came in contact with a 
delicate crystal vase standing upon a bracket near. 
With a crash the bauble fell to the floor. 

The noise startled the lawyer from his reverie. 
He turned instantly. 

“Ah, my lady,” he exclaimed, “ a thousand par¬ 
dons ! Excuse my wretched stupidity, in not ob¬ 
serving your entrance ; but you see, I was so lost in 
contemplating yonder picture, and wondering that 
during all these years you could have changed so 


80 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


little, that I really did not hear yon. Allow me to 
assist you ; ” and he came forward to where Lady El- 
eanore was busily employed picking up the fragments 
of glass to hide her agitation. 

“No matter—the servants will attend to it,” she 
said coldly, recovering herself. 

“As you please, my lady. I called to—ahem! 
consult you about—as you are well aware—certain 
unpleasant facts which I hold in my possession ; ” and 
the lawyer ran his fingers rapidly through his hair, 
until it stood on ends. 

“ What! ” faltered Lady Eleanore ; “ you do not 
intend to disclose-” 

“By no means, madam ; only, you know as well 
as I this is a very important affair, and should I make 
it public I might come into a fortune. ” 

“I know, I know,” said my lady—her breath 
coming in short gasps—“ but you would not betray 
me ?—you promised ” 

“Yes, I promised,” assented the lawyer, “and of 
course my promise shall remain inviolate; but you 
must know, my lady, the remuneration is rather 
small for such an important secret.” 

“You wish more ? ” 

“Exactly, my lady.” 

“ How much more will satisfy you ? ” 

“A thousand pounds.” 

“And, if I pay it to you, do you solemnly swear 
to keep this secret ? ” 

“I solemnly swear, my lady, that I will never di¬ 
vulge that your son is not-” 




THE DISCOVERED AMBROTYPE. 


81 


“Oh, hush ! ” she exclaimed in affrighted tones— 
laying one hand quickly over his mouth—“ the very 
walls may have ears—do not speak it aloul ! To¬ 
morrow you shall have your money. Now, leave 
me.” 

“As you desire,” said the lrwyer, respectfully. 
“Good afternoon, my lady. I shall remember my 
promise.” 

Lady Grantly was alone. Sinking upon her knees, 
she buried her face in the cushions of a chair, and re¬ 
mained motionless for a long time. At last she rose, 
stole to the door and softly locked it. Resuming her 
former position, she drew from her bosom a locket 
fastened to a slender gold chain. Opening this, she 
gazed long and earnestly upon the dark, handsome 
face enclosed. One by one tears welled up into her 
eyes and chased each other in quick succession down 
her faded cheeks, and with the very abandon of grief 
she threw herself into a chair and pressed her lips to 
the pictured face. “ Oh, Lawrence ! Lawrence ! ” 
she sobbed, “how I loved you ! but I sinned against 
you. I sold myself for gold ! Oh, if you could only 
come back from the grave to tell me that you forgive 
me ! ” 

A step, quick and firm, sounded through the hall. 
With a frightened gesture, Lady Grantly thrust the 
jocket back into her bosom and quickly unlocked the 
library door; then seizing a book, seated herself 
and became to all intents deeply engrossed in read¬ 
ing. 

The footsteps grew more distinct every instant, 


82 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


and at last paused; the knob to the library door 
turned, and Lord Mason Grantly entered the room. 

“ You here, mother ? ” he exclaimed in a tone not 
unmixed with annoyance. 

“Yes, Mason, I was reading,” replied Lady 
Grantly, in a voice of forced calmness. “ I am going 
now,” making a movement to retire. 

“No, stay, mother,” he said quietly. “I have a 
few words to say to you, and I may as well say them 
now as ever.” 

“ Well, my son.” 

“ I wish an explanation in regard to my marrying 
Cecilia Brandon ; I wish to know how I am likely to 
become a beggar ? ” 

“Really, my lord, I have quite forgotten the won¬ 
derful conversation you refer to.” 

“Mother,” he exclaimed sternly, “you shall not 
elude me in this manner ! You remember perfectly 
well! I will know ! ” 

“‘You will know!’” she answered in a hard, 
cold tone — her mood suddenly changing. “Have 
I not already told you the conditions, my lord ? ” 

“That is not enough. I wish to know why I shall 
be a beggar. 

“And I reiterate, you shall not know ! The secret 
is mine, and I have sworn not to divulge it.” 

“Mother,” he said, drawing close to her, while a 
swift pallor overspread his dusky face, “is it — tell 
me — is it anything concerning my father? Am I not 
his lawful son ? ” 

A ringing laugh was his repb r 


THE DISCOVERED AMBROTYPE. 88 

“ You foolish boy,” said the lady, “what a silly 
question to ask : Are you Lord Sidney’s son ? Yes, if I 
were his wife. Forget what I have said, my son, and 
only remember that it is my wish that you should wed 
the Lady Cecilia — the wish of your mother who held 
you on her knee in infancy, and has always loved you 
with more than an ordinary mother’s love.” 

The stern look died out of the young man’s eyes, 
and he stooped and kissed her tenderly. 

“You will, my son?” she said, with a pleading 
look. 

“I will think of it, mother. Wishy-washy isn't 
exactly to my fancy, but seeing you so desire it, I 
will promise to think about it. Good evening.” 

“ Will you not look in at Lady Hantly’s reception 
this evening, Mason ? ” 

“Yes, later; I have letters to write now,” and 
he held the door open for Lady Grantly to pass out. 

“I am convinced it was merely a freak of hers,” 
he said in a tone of relief, as he crossed the room and 
drew out the slides to the secretaire / but I am so 
unlike him that I did not know at first; I have been a 
fool to allow a woman’s morbid fancy to disturb me. 
All this is lawfully mine ” — glancing about him with 
a look of pride — “ and no one has the power to wrest 
it from me.” 

Lord Mason Grantly was a proud man — proud of 
his old name and ancestral home ; prouder by far 
than all the dead and gone Grantlys had ever dared 
lobe. “ Yes, it is mine,” he repeated, “mine, and 
only mine .’' 7 


84 : 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


He unlocked several drawers, and taking out their 
contents — packages of old letters, musty deeds, etc. 
— began busily to sort them. “ It must be among 
these,” he commented, taking up the last package. 
“Let me see ! Ah, here it is,” and he drew forth a 
time-yellowed letter, addressed to Lord Sidney Grant- 
ly. This he perused eagerly. It was a friendly, 
rambling letter, full of all sorts of things — descrip¬ 
tions of bits of scenery, a criticism on a noted pict¬ 
ure, and so on. It was dated at Home, and signed 
Richard Grandale. 

“Not an atom of use,” muttered Lord Mason. “I 
thought that it might, perhaps, contain some clue ; 
but it does not,” and he flung it impatiently one side. 
As he did so, something slipped from the envelope 
and fell with a metallic ring upon the polished wood 
of the secretaire. Lord Mason picked it up and exam¬ 
ined it with interest. It proved to Re a small ambro- 
type, about the size for a locket, very much faded, 
but still revealing the noble face of a young man of 
twenty, or thereabouts. 

“This must be Richard Grandale himself,” said 
Lord Mason. ‘ ‘ What a fine, noble face it is ! I do 
wonder why he quarreled with the old count, and 
why he disappeared so suddenly, never to return ? It 
is a mystery beyond comprehension. This letter to 
my hither was written the Winter he spent in Rome, 
studying art. He was an artist of no mean type, I 
have heard, and his criticism shows it. It is singular 
that I have become so deeply interested in this case. 
Why, if I 'were only a detective, I would search the 


THE DISCOVERED AMBEOTYPE. 


85 


wide world over until I found Richard Grandale, or 
brought back news of his death. At any rate, my 
search has not been wholly worthless. To-morrow, I 
will show this to Martins. It may yet prove of some 
use; and placing the ambrotype carefully between 
the leaves of his pocket-book, he relocked the drawers 
to the secretaire , then lighting a cigar, settled back in 
his chair and gave himself up to meditation. 

44 4 Her eyes are like the stars,’ ” he repeated, ab¬ 
sently watching the curling rings of smoke from his 
cigar. 44 How absurd that that sentence should haunt 
me as it does ; how utterly ridiculous that a simple 
country girl whom I have never seen, nor Ralph 
either, should occupy such a place in my thoughts. 

4 She sings like a siren’—that is the latest, I believe. 
I expect this wonderful being will yet embody every 
charm under the sun. Ralph is an idiot. How I 
should like to bear down on the old fellow, though, 
for a few months. What a surprise it would be to 
him to behold me walking into Mrs. Betsy Snibbs’ 
parlor—portmanteau in one hand, and a fishing-rod 
in the other. I expect the dear old boy would con¬ 
sider me an optical illusion. After all, why not go ? 
In visiting America, I stand a bare chance of discov¬ 
ering some clue of Richard Grandale. By the fast 
line of steamers, it is scarcely more than a trip across 
the channel; then, I can easily be home again by Oc¬ 
tober—before Parliament goes into session. Yes, I 
have more than half a mind to go—in fact, I will 
go.” 

Having arrived at this conclusion, my lord flung 


86 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


his half-smoked cigar out of the low French window 
—repaired to his room, rung the bell for his valet, 
and making a hasty toilet was soon en route for Lady 
Hantly’s reception. 

Lady Cecilia Brandon’s dull little eyes brightened, 
as Lord Mason entered the Hantly drawing-room ; 
and a pleased smile broke over her insipid face, when, 
after a few words with the hostess, he made his way 
directly to her and asked for the first dance. 

He was very attentive all that evening, and the 
little lady’s hopes rose higher and higher every mo¬ 
ment. “ She had surely won him,” she whispered 
confidentially to herself. Lady Grantly was in her 
element, also—her plan was working to a charm. 
She dispensed her smiles bounteously right and left— 
answering one inquisitive dowager—who whispered 
in her ear, that u she expected to hear of a wedding 
ere long ”—with a low, little laugh full of conscious 
meaning. 

Yes, to more than one that night, it looked as if 
Brandon Park and Grantly Manor would soon be 
united—while to the lady in question it became al¬ 
most a certainty ; until, alas! a startling disclosure 
shattered her high-built hopes. They were standing 
together in the dimly-lighted conservatory, where 
Lady Cecilia had pleaded to betaken after an unusually 
long and fatiguing valse; and my little lady had 
struck her most charming attitude—leaning against 
the fountain, dabbling her slender hands in the limpid 
water. 


THE DISCOVERED AMBROTTPE. S7 

“Will you attend Lady Latimer’s champetre f ” 
she asked, by way of conversation. 

“ I regret,” replied Lord Mason, “ but I shall not 
be here.” 

“ Not be here ! Are you going away ? ” she asked, 
in a tone of dismay. 

“ Yes ; I intend to join my cousin, Ralph Otis, for 
the summer in America. What relic of barbarism 
shall I fetch home to you as a souvenir , Lady Cecilia ? ” 

u Oh ! you are not really going to America? ” she 
gasped. 

“Why not? It is but a short trip, at this day, 
across the Atlantic, and I expect to enjoy myself 
hugely.” 

“But we shall be so lonely ! ” 

“ Shall you be lonely, Cecilia?” he asked, in an 
amused tone. 

“ You know it, well enough,” she pouted. 

“Oh, there’ll be Hantly, Wilkes and Edgeworth, 
beside hosts of others left to console you, mon 
amie. ” 

“I don’t care for them, Mason, and you know it,” 
she protested indignantly. 

“ That is as much as to say, you do care for me, 
Cecilia. Do you really expect me to credit such a 
ridiculous idea? You are seeking to raise me to the 
seventh heaven of bliss, only to plunge me sooner or 
later into the abyss of despair. No, I can not credit 
such an assertion, for a moment,” and Lord Mason’s 
face wore a look of comical doubt. 


88 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


“ It’s dowdy to go to America!” continued the 
little lady. 

“ Yes, I suppose so. I may come back with only 
a scalp-lock and in feathers and war-paint; nevertheless, 

1 intend to make the trial. Ah, here’s the mater, 
looking for you, Cecilia. Good-night, and don’t quite 
forget me in my western wilds.” 

“Good-night,” said Lady Cecilia, trying to hide 
her tears. “ I think you are shamefully cruel to de¬ 
sert us.” 

“Where is he going?” inquired Lady Grantly, 
who had appeared upon the scene in search of Lady 
Cecilia, whose chaperone she had acted for the even¬ 
ing. 

“To that horrid old America, where they are al¬ 
most cannibals who eat people alive ! ” 

“There is no danger of my being devoured,” 
laughed Lord Mason. “ I am by far too lean, Cecilia. 
Cannibals like good eating. The rector, now, would 
only make them a comfortable meal, and he weighs 
over two hundred.” 

“Please explain this nonsense,” said the elder 
lady, sharply. 

“ Certainly, my dear mother; I have just been 
informing Cecilia that I intend taking a short 
run over to America to see Ralph, and advis¬ 
ing her not to slay too many hearts during my 
absence. ” 

“Mason, you surely do not mean that you are go¬ 
ing abroad? ” 

“Yes, ma mere , for a few months, only. I shall 


THE DISCOVERED AMBROTYPE. 


89 


be back before yon fairly miss me ; but I have a 
fancy to join Ralph for a short time. ” 

Lady Grantly’s eyes sparkled with displeasure at 
this decided announcement; but she only replied : 
“Have your own way, you perverse boy. Cecilia 
and I can exist without you. Can we not, petite f ” 

“ He won’t be gone long,” murmured the little 
lady. 

“ No,” thought Lord Mason, glancing down at 
the insipid face with its snub nose and washed-out 
eyes ; u but that time, however short, will be a relief 
from your society, my lady.” 


4* 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER X. 


THE HANDSOME STRANGER. 


When shall we three meet again ; 
In thunder, lightning, or in rain ? 


—Maobeth. 


HE most shiftless woman! ” remarked Mrs. Betsy 



JL Snibbs, shaking her fat fore-finger emphatically 
at her boon companion and confidant, Miss Polly 
Quackenbos, as the two sat together in the first-named 
lady’s private parlor, one sultry afternoon in July. 

“That’s what I always told you,” replied Miss 
Quackenbos, a spinster of some forty odd years’ stand¬ 
ing, shaking a very lean fore-finger emphatically in 
return at Mrs. Betsy Snibbs. 

“ She’s a heap shiftlesser than the other one,” 
continued Mrs. Snibbs. “ I remark, Polly, that Elder 
Skit’s first wife was what -we won’t find the likes of 
every day— Good land o’ Goshen ! who be you?” 

This singular and abrupt exclamation on the part 
of this estimable lady was accompanied by a start 
from Miss Polly, and a prolonged stare towards the 
open door. 

“Who be you ? ” again interrogated Mrs. Snibbs, 
dropping her lower jaw in sheer astonishment, and 
looking very much as if the sight of a handsome mam 


THE HANDSOME STRANGER. 


91 


standing upon the threshold of her door was very 
little short of a miracle. 

A very handsome man, Mrs. Betsy thought, and 
so would you or I have thought, could we have 
seen him as he stood, leaning gracefully against the 
doorpost, holding his hat in one hand, while upon the 
little bench beside him rested a portmanteau and a 
traveling rug. 

“Does Mrs. Snibbs live here?” he inquired 
politely—an amused smile playing about the corners 
of his mouth as he noted the consternation he had 
caused. 

“I’m her,” said Mrs. Betsy, recovering herself 
with an effort that is — leastways, if you mean 
the present Betsy Snibbs, of Briartown. There used 
to be another family of Snibbses here, an’ there was 
a Betsy Snibbs amongst them ; but she’s bin dead 
nigh onto thirty years. Yon ’ll find her grave in the 
northeast, left-hand corner of the graveyard, not far 
from Deacon ’Spires’es grave. My name was Betsy 
Shingle afore I was married to Simon Snibbs, who 
has died and left me a poor widder, to work my way 
alone. Perhaps it hain’t me you want ? ” 

“I think you are the lady,” said the gentleman, 
“that is, if you are the proprietress of a certain 
boarding-house, and number among your boarders a 
gentleman by the name of Otis ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Mrs. Snibbs, “if you’re meaning 
Mr. Otis, the gentleman that makes pictures ; he 
boards here. Be you any of his relations ? ” 

“A cousin,” said the stranger. “ Is he at home ?” 


92 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


“Lor’, no! he’s never to hum in the daytime ; 
he’s always off makin’ pictures. I don’t expect him 
afore to-night.” 

“ Can you tell where I shall be likely to find 
him ? ” 

“ Wal, I can't just say ; he may be in one place, 
and he may be in a t’ other ; but I heerd him say this 
morning that he was a-goin 1 up to Hinkley Park, to 
finish that ’ere pictur he’s a makin’ of the cove— 
which is awful lifelike—hain’t it, Polly ? ” I told him 
it didn’t lack but one thing, an’ that was Kitty Kaw a 
settin’on the green bank. She’s an awful handsome 
gal ! the handsomest we’ve got in these parts.” 

“Kitty Kaw,” repeated the stranger, mentally; 
“ then she really does exist, and has not proven her¬ 
self a second Marjorie Daw, as I half feared she 
might, from Ralph’s rhapsodies. I think I will go in 
search of the old boy. He is evidently boarding the 
enchanted castle, which means mischief.” (Aloud.) 
“ Can you tell me in which direction Hinkley Park 
lies ! ” 

“Wal, you go up that road,” said Mrs. Snibbs, 
pointing with the fat digit, “ an’ turn to the first turn 
you come to ; then go on till you come to some big 
gates with a little house, what they call a lodge, on 
one side of ’em; that’s the entrance to Hinkley Park, 
the finest place in all the country ’round, though it is 
owned by an old maid who ought to have her neck 
wrung for a cheatin’ of her own sister.” 

“Thank you,” said the stranger, in reply to this 


THE HANDSOME STRANGER. 


93 


somewhat unique information. “ May I leave my 
traveling appurtenances here? I shall probably re¬ 
main sometime with my cousin, and should like to be 
accommodated if possible.” 

u Yes,” replied Mrs. Betsy, “ you can leave your 
things here, and I’ll tog up the spare bedroom for you. 
It hain’t been slept in since Sairy Ann Comfort died. 
It wants airin’ bad. Sairy Ann Comfort was — ” 

The stranger was half-way down the garden walk, 
out of hearing of the worthy woman’s voice ; so Mrs. 
Snibbs was fain to defer her explanation until another 
time, while she resumed the broken thread of conver¬ 
sation with Miss Polly. 

For once, however, propitious fate interfered 
and saved the rector’s w T ife her weekly stipend of 
scandal from the two most inveterate gossips in all 
Briar town. Yes, for this once the poor, ill-used, over¬ 
worked creature was safe, for Mrs. Betsy and her 
boon companion had entirely forgotten her existence, 
so engrossed did they become in deep speculations 
as to whom the distinguished stranger might be; 
who his ancestors were; where he came from, etc., 
etc. The sun went down upon these two, their 
tongues wagging ceaselessly, and the lean fore-finger 
and the fat fore-finger gesticulating vigorously, but 
all in vain ; the mystery remained a mystery still. 

Meanwhile the stranger, utterly oblivious of the 
curiosity he had aroused in two such worthy minds, 
sauntered on until he came to the above-mentioned 
gates. Fortunately they stood wide open. Miss^ 
Hinkley having gone that very afternoon for a drive, 


94 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


the lodge-keeper had not deemed it worth his while 
to refasten them. 

“I wonder if I shall find Ralph in the grounds,” 
soliloquised the young man. “What a surprise it 
will be to the old boy—this lighting down upon him. 
I wish I could catch him hard at work, and step up 
behind him and administer to him a hearty old Eton 
dig in the ribs. 

“A fine old place,” he remarked, catching occa¬ 
sional glimpses of the mansion as he walked along, 
through the trees that lined the avenue. “Ralph 
was right; it resembles immensely our English 
homes. The architecture is certainly Elizabethan ; 
built probably by some rich lord, who contracted the 
popular frenzy in earlier days of emigrating to a new 
world. It forms a striking contrast to the rest of 
Briartown, which is after the straight rule of modern 
architecture. However we may have progressed in 
other things, we have certainly retrograded from our 
ancestors’ knowledge of this art; while they reached 
the perfection of beauty, we have reached the perfec¬ 
tion of ugliness. 

“ But while I stand and gaze— tempusfugit. The 
old boy is certainly not immured within those vener¬ 
able walls; I must seek him elsewhere. This diverg¬ 
ing path leads to water, if I mistake not the glimmer 
between yonder trees. It must be a lake, and I shall 
probably come upon Ralph making love to a naiad 
thereabouts.” 

The path proved a narrow, circuitous one—wind¬ 
ing in and out among the trees, and at last converg- 


THE HANDSOME STRANGER. 


95 


ing to an open space which commanded a fine view 
of Mermaid Lake. Suddenly the stranger paused — 
the sound of a familiar voice greeted his ear, and 
through the trees he caught a glimpse of the broad 
back of a man, as he bent over an easel. 

u The old boy, by Jupiter ! ” he exclaimed, “ and 
talking to himself like the imbecile he always was. 
Softly now, while I steal up and give him a weighty 
surprise. ” 

But Mr. Ralph Otis Avas not talking to himself. 
Leaning against a convenient tree stood Miss Kitty 
Kaw—her white dress, with its black ribbons, falling 
in graceful folds about her, and one little hand dang¬ 
ling a straw flat, garlanded with a wreath of white 
roses. Miss Kitty Kaw, with her great black eyes 
lighting up her lovely face like two shining stars, and 
her wondrous golden hair falling in loose heavy curls 
about her fair neck and shoulders. 

This startling disclosure brought the intruder to 
an immediate standstill behind a great oak tree, 
and riveted his eyes full upon this lovely apparition ; 
and there he stood, an unwitting listener to the fol¬ 
lowing conversation : 

I hope,” said the artist, in a deprecating tone, 
“ I have not seriously offended you by this second in¬ 
trusion in the park, Miss—Miss Kaw ? ” 

“ No,” replied that young lady, primly; “ as long as 
my aunt, and companion, Miss Hinkley, allows the 
park to be traversed by the public, I have no occa¬ 
sion to be offended at whomever I may chance to 
meet within its limits. Proceed, sir ; I really take 


96 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


an interest in the works of young artists” (laying 
such peculiar stress upon the word young, that Mr. 
Otis winced, arid in spite of his thirty odd summers 
suddenly felt himself very youthful and green). “ I 
like to look upon their productions,” she continued ; 
“ it recalls to mind that in future generations their 
works may become what Michael Angelo's, Raphael’s, 
Titian’s and others are now to us. Pray do not let 
me interfere, Mr.—Mr. ” 

“ Otis,” said the young man. “ You do not inter¬ 
fere in the least—I had really quite finished. If I 
remember aright, you informed me, upon our first 
meeting, that your father was also an artist ? ” 

“Yes,” replied Miss Kitty—the prim corners of 
her mouth relaxing, and a soft light creeping into her 
great eves—“ papa was an artist; and that reminds 
me—will you show me the sketch of Castle Yale once 
more ? ” 

“Certainly,” said Ralph, quickly producing the 
book. 

“ I am almost certain,” she said, as she examined 
it closely ; “yes, I am certain that I have seen this 
before—in my own, dear papa’s studio.” 

“Perhaps he had been in England and was ac¬ 
quainted with Castle Yale,” suggested the artist. 

“ I think not,” said Kitty ; “ papa never spoke to 
mamma of being.there, else she would have told me. 
No, he was never in England. He must have gotten 
the sketch from some brother artist. What a beau¬ 
tiful, beautiful place it is! I should never tire of 
looking at it.” 



THE HANDSOME STRANGER. 


97 


“ Pray keep the sketch, said the young man ea¬ 
gerly. “ It is but a trifle—and ” (he added hypocrit¬ 
ically, seeing the look of primness returning to Miss 
Kitty’s face)—“that is, I thought it might remind 
you of your father. ” 

She gazed wistfully at it for a moment, then 
handed it back. “No,” she replied coldly, “ I thank 
you ; but I do not care to keep it. Good afternoon, 
sir.” 

A crackling sound arrested their attention, and 
from behind the oak tree emerged the stranger. 

Miss Kitty’s departing footsteps were stayed in 
astonishment. As for the artist, he let fall his pal¬ 
ette instantly, and rushing forward seized the intruder 
by the hand. 

“ For heaven’s sake 1 Mason, where did you drop 
from ? ” he exclaimed. 

“Not from the clouds, old boy,” laughed the 
stranger, returning with vigor the hearty grip. ‘ 4 Yes- 
terday I dropped from a Cunard steamer, and since 
then I have been en route— flying over land and wa¬ 
ter to your hospitable arms. Who is she \ ” he added, 
lowering his voice. “Introduce me, old fellow, but 
don’t let on who I am. Call me plain Mr. Mason, or 
anything vour fertile brain may suggest.” 

Why Kitty Kaw did not instantly depart, she 
herself could not have told. She wished to go—her 
intentions were good—but like a great many other 
people before her, and under very similar circum¬ 
stances, she remained ; and, upon her remaining, Fate 
wove an entirely different strand into the web of her life. 

5 


98 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


“Miss Kaw,” said Ralph Otis, turning toward* 
her, “allow me to present my cousin, Mr. Mason, 
who has just arrived from England.” 

“Probably here was another strolling artist,” 
was the thought that flashed athwart this young lady’s 
brain; and it was the height of impropriety, her even 
deigning to more than acknowledge in the briefest, 
coldest manner, the courtly bow and admiring glance 
bestowed upon her by the not-at-all-abashed Mr. 
Mason. 

Rut it is human to err, and my heroine, as you 
must have discovered long since, is of the earth 
earthy; not one of those celestial beings who never 
commit a sin during their whole lifetime, which some 
novelists delight in painting. Miss Kitty was, as I 
have said, human ; and being human, she, instead of 
listening to the inward monitor who whispered loudly 
in her ear the sage advice of Miss Hester Hinkley, 
dropped for one instant the heavily-fringed white lids 
over her matchless eyes, raised them slowly, and 
flashed a mischievous, coquettish look full upon the 
young man, while the soft sweet voice rather drawled : 
“I am very pleased to meet Mr. Mason.” 

Years after, when an ocean rolled between these 
two; when one wandered a weary exile in a far-off land, 
dishonored and forsaken, the memory of this day came 
back; and often and often a picture rose before his 
dreary vision, of the waning sunlight shifting through 
the green leaves and resting in flickering shadows 
upon a girl’s wondrous golden hair; and he saw again 



THE HANDSOME STRANGER. 


09 


those glorious eyes flash their light upon him, and 
heard in fancy the clear, sweet voice. 

How often we look back upon the events of the 
past—some startling epoch, either sad or sweet, in 
our lives—and wonder that the mind can recall every 
look, every gesture, every insignificant word that 
dropped from lips long since grown cold or sealed in 
hatred against us ; wonder that in our intentness we 
can see again the very robe the loved one wore ; the 
twisted knot of soft ribbon at the throat; the dainty 
nosegay in the belt. Like photographic impressions 
they stand out before us, and we live again by-gone 
scenes. 

As my Lord Mason Orantly, or plain Mr. Mason, 
as we must now call him, returned this glance of 
Kitty Kaw, some dim thought, pertaining to ancient 
mythology and a modern Aphrodite, must have flitted 
through his brain; at any rate, he mentally ejacu¬ 
lated : “A second Venus, by Jove ! ” 

What these two young people might have said to 
each other ; how far they might have gone towards 
cementing a lasting friendship, is not to be recorded 
here. Fate ordained otherwise, for Mr. Mason had 
barely gotten over a very common-place remark—a 
remark that has been made by lords and ladies of 
high degree down to burgher and serf, from time im¬ 
memorial, and even, I think, must have been the first 
words Adam addressed to Eve when they were intro¬ 
duced in the garden of Eden, namely, “We are hav¬ 
ing fine weather.” He had barely gotten over this 


100 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


remark when a step was heard—a firm, prim step. A 
glimpse of a black bombazine dress became visible 
through the trees, and lo, the mistress of Hinkley 
Park had captured the reprobate. 

It would be impossible for me to depict the look 
of horror that came into Miss Hester’s face, who hav¬ 
ing returned from her drive was strolling through the 
park, and had unconsciously come upon these young 
people. It would be impossible for me to explain the 
paroxysms that convulsed her virtuous mind as her 
steely eyes took in the situation. Acting upon general 
principles, she immediately took off her spectacles and 
wiped them; replacing them exactly upon the bridge 
of her nose, she stared long and steadily at the inter¬ 
lopers. If Miss Hester had been a modern Medusa, 
her victims would certainly have become stone, then 
and there; but as it was, they merely felt very 
uncomfortable, and heartily wished themselves at that 
moment any place outside the limits of Hinkley Park. 
Turning her eyes slowly, she at last allowed them to 
rest full upon her niece. That young lady was not so 
easily abashed, and her black orbs never flinched as 
they boldly returned this concentrated stare. 

“Katherine Kaw,” said Miss Hester, in a tone as 
measured as if she were keeping time to a funeral 
march, “Katherine Kaw, what means this? ” 

“It means nothing, aunt Hester,” replied that 
young lady, tossing her head with a flippant air that 
said plainly, 1 am not at all afraid of you, “only I 
was walking through the park and accidentally came 
upon this gentleman, sketching the cove. See ! is not 


THE HANDSOME STRANGER. 


101 


the picture beautiful ? Mr. Otis, my aunt, Miss Hink- 
ley ; also Mr. Mason, aunt.” 

“ Katherine Kaw,” said the elder lady once more, 
completely ignoring the polite bows the two young 
men bestowed upon her, u return to the house instant¬ 
ly ; and you, sirs, leave this park.” 

Thus summarily dismissed, Mr. Otis, without 
farther ostentation, strode away accompanied by Mr. 
Mason who delayed only long enough to raise his hat 
gracefully to’Miss Kitty, and bestow upon her a look 
of heart-felt sympathy. 

To say that the scene was a stormy one that 
raged in the drawing-room at Hinkley Park that 
night, is to tell the exact truth ; that is, it was stormy 
as far as Miss Kitty was concerned, for Miss Hester 
retained her usual decorum and laid down her man¬ 
dates in her usual rigid style, not one whit disturbed 
by her niece’s superabundant stock of temper. 

“I think,” screamed Kitty Kaw, in her indigna¬ 
tion, “it was mean! mean!! mean!!! in you, aunt 
Hester Hinkley, to speak to me in that fashion before 
gentlemen. ” 

“ I was not aware that I spoke to you at all, be¬ 
fore gentlemen ,” remarked Miss Hester, laying great 
stress upon the word. 

“ What were they, then ? ” gasped Kitty. 

“Strolling artists, vagabonds, who sprang from— 
no one knows where ; if I must say it, men just like 
your father, Katherine. I can see very plainly from 
whom you inherited your low proclivities. Heaven 


102 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


only knows how my poor, misguided sister ever 
came — ” 

“I won’t hear my father spoken ill of! I won’t 
hear it! ” exclaimed Miss Kitty, inserting a finger in 
each ear. “Oh, my poor papa ! Oh, my poor, poor 
mamma ! why did you both die and leave your little 
Kitty all alone in this wide, cruel world ? ” and break¬ 
ing down completely, the young lady sobbed as if her 
heart would break, behind her cambric handkerchief. 

“Tears,” said Miss Hester, grimly, “ are the evi¬ 
dences of a weak mind. I think I never beheld a 
more vapid, characterless creature than yourself, 
Katherine Kaw. The Hinkleys are above such weak¬ 
ness. You are a Kaw to the very marrow of your 
bones. ” 

“Oh, I’m so lonely — so lonely ! ” sobbed Kitty. 
“Mamma loved me and called me her little Kitty— 
her dear, dear little Kitty ! Oh, my poor mamma ! 
I’m so lonely without you ! ” 

“ Great heavens ! ” exclaimed Miss Hester, for 
once becoming disturbed, “ what a fool! what a con¬ 
summate fool you are, Katherine Kaw ! Go to your 
room instantly.” 

Nothing loath to obey, Kitty lowered the cambric 
handkerchief from her eyes sufficiently to make sure 
of her exit through the drawing-room door, and left 
Miss Hester’s presence with most unladylike haste. 

That lady looked after her with an expression of 
intense disgust upon her face. “Just like Rebecca,” 
she muttered, “soft.” 

Poor Kitty passed a bad night of it, as she tossed 


THE HANDSOME STRANGER. 


103 


restlessly upon her tear-wet pillow and sighed for that 
dead mother’s tender touch. Poor little motherless, 
misguided girl! with her quick, impetuous temper 
and her warm, loving heart. Do not censure her too 
harshly, dear reader ; her capabilities for good or evil 
were great. Under loving hands the good would have 
sprung up and crushed the noxious weeds ; but under 
Miss Hester’s hands the weeds already predominated. 
She wept to-night because she was lonely and unloved. 
Ah, how many who have long since passed the Rubi¬ 
con of seventeen have wept for this same reason, and 
have spent long, weary nights tossing restlessly upon 
tear-wet pillows ! Love is to the human heart what 
the pure, bright sunshine is to the earth. Without it 
all is dark and cheerless. There is no heart, however 
hard, but longs for its presence ; and no heart, how¬ 
ever hard, but mourns over its loss. Even Miss 
Hester had had her love-story, and missed its fulfil¬ 
ment. 

But youthful woes and youthful pains are fleeting. 
Miss Kitty dipped her dimpled face in the marble 
ewer, next morning, and bathed it until the soft pink 
came back to the rounded cheeks. She lifted one cor¬ 
ner of the curtain that shrouded her window. Every¬ 
thing was looking too bright and fresh and gay to be 
sad ; so a merry old song rippled up to her lips, and 
chased all the shadows away. 


104 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER XI. 

KITTY OUT BOTANIZING. 

Pleasure never comes sincere to man, 

But lent by Heaven upon hard usury. 

—Dryden's CEdiptts. 

M AY I enquire what brought you to America? 

asked Ralph Otis, as soon as the gates of 
Hinkley Park were safely passed and the young men 
were upon the highway. 

“In search of that fickle goddess, Pleasure, my 
boy,” replied Mr. Mason, stifling a yawn and looking 
somewhat wearily down the long, dusty stretch of 
road that lay between them and the widow Snibbs’ 
abode ; u but I don’t seem to have found her as yet. 
What could have possessed that old she dragon to 
have pounced down upon us in such a manner ? Have 
you incurred her royal displeasure? I felt sorry 
enough for the little lady. I tell you, Ral, vulgarly 
speaking, old England’s fairest can not hold a candle 
to your Miss Kaw. You were right; her eyes are 
precisely like two great shining stars; and what an 
air she has—that of a queen ! ” 

Ralph Otis felt a sharp twinge of pain as he listened 
to his cousin’s comments. Why — he could not ex¬ 
plain. Surely, any one had a right to speak in this 
manner of Kitty Kaw. It was but natural that Mason 


KITTY OUT BOTANIZING. 


105 


should admire her. He himself had met her but 
twice, and was not every lineament of her sweet face 
already engraven upon his heart? Still, he felt this 
bitter pain force itself upon him like an evil omen. 
Was it not a presentiment of a far greater pain he 
should one day bear, on account of this girl’s beautiful 
face ? Did he see in the future that stretched out be¬ 
fore him the lonety, dreary lot that should be his ? 
Fate may have lifted the veil for an instant, and his 
soul have gazed down the dim vista of life’s untrodden 
path ! Who can tell ? 

But however plainly he may have discerned his 
own destiny, Ralph Otis could not have faintly guessed 
at the man’s by his side, else the bitter pang of envy 
would not have stolen over him as he gazed into the 
smiling face so free from care. 

“ I met the oracle, old boy,” continued Mr. Ma¬ 
son, laughing heartily as he related the interview that 
had taken place between himself and Mrs. Betsy; 
“ and explained to her—as she seemed as much sur¬ 
prised to see me as Aladdin’s mother was to behold 
the genii of the lamp—that I was no illusion, but 
bona fide flesh and blood, and withal a cousin of 
yours. This latter information seemed to raise me 
decidedly in her favor; and, upon the strength of it, 
she has concluded to harbor me beneath her hospita¬ 
ble roof. But remember, old boy, I shall remain 
incognito; for I am determined to pass in Briartown 
upon my simple merits—or demerits, as it seems so 
far. My not at all flattering receptions at Hinkley 
Park, convinces me that the patricians turn their backs 


106 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


upon me, and that I shall be forced to resort to the 
plebs. Therefore, Mrs. Betsy, I hail thee ! I return 
to thy parental bosom to roam no more. ” 

“How did you leave my Lady Grantly and the 
Lady Cecilia Brandon ?” asked Mr. Otis. 

“Well, my boy. The mater disapproved to the 
last, and the little lady wept copiously.” 

“When,” said the artist, slowly, “are you and 
the Lady Cecilia to be married % ” 

“Not soon, old boy ; I can not quite make up my 
mind to wishy-washy. It was mainly to escape her 
that I came to America. But here we are at the 
Snibbs’ mansion ; and, if I mistake not, the house¬ 
hold angel is watching our approach from yonder 
portico. ” 

Sure enough ; it proved Mrs. Betsy, who informed 
the stranger that “she had just finished togging up 
the spare bedroom, and that he would find it all in 
readiness.” For this service he thanked her with 
such courtly grace as to immediately establish him¬ 
self in her good favor. 

Mr. Mason was soon a general favorite in Briar- 
town. His handsome face and cordial manner won 
him scores of friends ; and, before two weeks had 
passed, he knew the whole village by heart. 

Miss Kitty Kaw had not forgotten those black 
eyes ; in fact, she was rather given to vague specula¬ 
tions as to who this young man might be. As she 
worked away at the detested netting, she soliloquised 
in the following manner : 

“I suppose if aunt Hester knew I was thinking 


KITTY OUT BOTANIZING. 


lOT 

about a young man, she would be struck dumb with 
horror. How very dreadful her coming upon us that 
day in the park. I know she intended that prolonged 
stare of hers to completely annihilate me ; but I 
wasn’t so easily put down as she thought for. I flat¬ 
ter myself I sustained my part in a highly creditable 
manner. No, my dear aunt Hinkley, I shall not sink 
into confusion at a glance from you, or any other 
high-born dame, though she boasted twice our num¬ 
ber of defunct grandfathers. I felt very sorry for the 
gentlemen. How dared aunt Hester be so insulting 
as to order them out of the park. They have not 
been here since; of course they never will come 
again. I have seen the last of that unusually fine 
looking young man. Oh, dear! ” and Miss Kitty 
heaved a long sigh—expressive of her disgust at the 
state of affairs in general. 

But my heroine was mistaken. She was to see 
Mr. Mason again, else this story would never have 
been written. 

Two weeks later—one pleasant afternoon in July 
—when the hum of the insect began to sound all day, 
and the green carpet in the park was beginning to 
take on a brownish hue— which whispered faintly that 
summer was advancing—this young lady with book 
in hand wandered toward Mermaid Lake. 

“Til cross over to the island,” quoth she; “it 
looks shady and quiet there, and I do so want to rest. 
The cat has been particularly nagging to-day. Oh, 
dear! I wish I could go away from Hinkley Park 
—anywhere ! I can not, I will not bear it much 


108 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


longer ! I will go away and earn a living for myself! ” 
and Kitty clenched her little white hands wrathfully, as 
if she very much wanted to strangle somebody; and that 
somebody, I strongly suspect, was Miss Hester, who, 
by her implied hints and hateful allusions, made life 
each day more burdensome to her young relative. 

Untying a small boat—chained to a slight pier 
which ran out into the lake several feet—Kitty sprang 
lightly into it; and handling the oars in a manner 
which showed she was performing no unusual feat, 
rowed swiftly away. 

From a secluded spot on the little island, Ralph 
Otis and Mr. Mason watched her approach with in¬ 
tense interest. The artist sat sketching, and his com¬ 
panion reclined at full length upon the soft green 
moss, lazily reading in a deep, rich voice, stray pas¬ 
sages from “ Childe Harold.” Long before the boat 
touched the shore, Ralph had recognized the graceful 
gipsy hat, and the white robe with its fluttering black 
ribbons, with a thrill of delight. Suddenly the oars 
splashed the water playfully, until it broke into a 
thousand diamond sprays, and a clear voice began to 
sing: 

“ I coost my line in Largon Bay, 

And fishes I catched nine ; 

’Twas three to boil and three to fry, 

And three to bait the line. 

The boatie rows, the boatie rows, 

The boatie rows indeed. 

And happy be the lot o’ a’ 

Who wishes her to speed! ” 


KITTY OUT BOTANIZING. 


109 


Nearer and nearer came the boat, till it grated 
upon the sand. Kitty Kaw sprang out—the fag end 
of her song dying upon her lips as she came tripping 
up the bank. 

A sharp exclamation of surprise broke from her 
lips, and a look of intense vexation came into her 
face as she beheld the young men. 

Mr. Mason was on his feet instantly. 

“Good afternoon,” he said, smiling. 

“Good afternoon,” returned Kitty, petulantly. 

“ Will you not accept of my camp-stool ? ” in¬ 
quired Mr. Otis. 

“No,” replied Miss Kitty, firmly; “pray con¬ 
tinue with your work (fabricating a lie); “I came af¬ 
ter botanical specimens. I must search for them and 
return home immediately. ” 

“ Perhaps I may be able to assist you,” remarked 
Mr. Mason, walking leisurely by her side as she 
moved away; “I used to know something of botany 
in my boyhood days.” 

Now perplexed, Kitty neither knew, nor cared 
anything about botany. That science had not proved 
a favorite one with her ; and when she had closed the 
hated books, after a somewhat desultory high school 
course of study, she felt that she knew as little about 
it as when she began. It provoked her greatly to 
think that this “ impertinent man,” as she mentally 
styled him, should force his presence upon her in 
this manner ; and she at once resolved to be very dis¬ 
tant and freezing. But to long remain so she found 
was an impossibility. 


110 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


Mr. Mason proved himself so interesting, that, 
before she knew it, she had forgotten her good reso¬ 
lutions, and was laughing merrily at one of his par¬ 
ticularly witty sallies. 

“Is America anything like England?” she in¬ 
quired, after all restraint had given away, and they 
were chatting together like old friends. 

“In some respects it is very like ; but we have 
many old ancestral homes, and places of historical in¬ 
terest there, which of course America can not 
boast.” 

“Have you ever seen Castle Yale? ” 

“Often and often. You surely have never been 
there ? ” 

“No ; but Mr. Otis showed me a sketch of it, 
and told me of old Count Richard’s will. Do you 
think they will ever find Richard Grandale ? ” 

“I fear not,” replied Mr. Mason ; “ their most ear¬ 
nest efforts have proved unavailing. Of late I have 
abandoned myself to the idea that he must have per¬ 
ished in some far distant land; and that, however 
diligently they may search, they will find no record 
of that lost name.” 

It proved an hour or more before the young couple 
found their way back to where Ralph Otis was sit¬ 
ting, hard at work, with a stern, unsmiling look upon 
his face—as if that golden, summer afternoon held 
shadows that rested heavily upon his heart. The 
look vanished, however, as his eyes rested upon Kit¬ 
ty’s smiling, happy face; and he inquired gaily, “if 


KITTY OUT BOTANIZING. 


Ill 


she had been successful in securing her botanical 
specimens ? ” 

Kitty’s empty hands told the story; and she 
laughed merrily over the failure of her little nose. 

Mr. Mason assisted the young lady into her boat, 
and through the purple sunset she rowed slowly over 
the shining water, back to Hinkley Park. 

“1 have had a good time,” she mentally ejacu¬ 
lated, as she drew near the house, “and aunt Hester 
shall be none the wiser for it.” 

Meanwhile the artist packed away his tubes of 
madder, crimson-lake and bright Vermillion, which he 
had been using to finish a brilliant sunset scene— 
put them away in a tight, little box—just as we some- 
times hide our brightest thoughts—and shouldering 
his easel prepared to depart. 

“ Did you have a pleasant time?” he inquired of 
his companion. 

“I think,” replied that young man, dreamily, 
“ that I never had a better.” 

Through the green woods they strode along, leav¬ 
ing silence and creeping shadows behind them. At 
last, the moon rose out of a mist and lit up with her 
soft silver light all the green, moss-covered mounds 
of the fairies. Poor tattling Will, in the bushes hard 
by, began to bemoan his punishment in plaintive 
notes—“whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will,” he cried— 
and from his home in a rotten tree, “Tithonus”— 
Aurora’s poor old dried up husband—chirped his 
lonely song all through the summer night. 


112 


A PAIR PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER Xn. 


THE MEETING IN THE COVE, 


When the cat’s away, 
The mice will play.” 


ORD MASON GRANTLY was deeply interested 



±J in Miss Kitty Kaw ; deeply interested in this 
simple, country maiden, with her rarely beautiful 
face and piquant little airs and graces. Comparing 
her with Lady Cecilia Brandon, of Brandon Park— 
as he often did—all thoughts of the heiress became 
insuperable ; and my Lady Eleanore Grantly expe¬ 
rienced a pang of uneasiness at each fresh arrival of 
her son’s letters. 

“Why was it that Mason should be so enchanted 
with that barbarous country ? ” the lady questioned 
herself again and again. “ He never mentioned Lady 
Cecilia’s name ; now, it was too bad !Meanwhile, 
she was forced to resort to the ungrateful device of 
manufacturing sundry sweet messages, which she con¬ 
veyed to the heiress in lieu of Lord Mason’s short¬ 
comings. 

Yes, these were days of unrest to Lady Grantly; 
days in which she seemed living over a loaded mine, 
which threatened to explode at any moment and shat¬ 
ter all her cherished hopes and schemes. She longed 
intensely for her son’s return; and this, with the 


THE MEETING IN THE COVE. 


113 


nameless secret terror, was each day blanching her 
faded cheeks to a still sicklier hue, and painting great 
rings about her dull eyes. 

Lady Cecilia was growing restless also. 

Never exactly firm in the belief of Lord Grantly’s 
love for herself, she grew more and more impatient 
for his return; and lounged discontentedly in her 
boudoir at Brandon Park, or wandered through the 
stately rooms, an unhappy little morsel of humanity, 
surrounded by a great sea of splendor. All this vast 
wealth could not bring one smile to that drab, little 
face—no more than it can to any other living mortal’s, 
who knows a heartache which money has no power to 
heal. 

And well might these two women be unhappy— 
the one pining for a love that had never, for one mo¬ 
ment, been hers ; the other concealing in her bosom 
a secret which darkened her whole existence—a se¬ 
cret which even then was slowly, like a huge reptile, 
uncoiling itself to spring at the throat of its victim. 

Though our own hearts may be sad and cheerless, 
our neighbor across the way may be light and gay; 
while we weep, she may be singing. What for, all 
the sore and troubled hearts in the world ! Not a 
shadow rested upon Kitty Kaw's this summer’s day. 
She was blithe and merry; for had not aunt Hester 
gone up to Boston on her annual shopping expedition, 
and was not this young lady to follow the bent of her 
own sweet will for two whole blissful weeks ? 

She wandered into the great drawing-room and 
thought how much more cheerful and hospitable it 
5 * 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


1U 

looked without Miss Hester’s grim face and solemn 
black bombazine robe. “Stay there!” she ex¬ 
claimed, as she threw the despised netting under a 
sedate hair-cloth sofa. “I’ll have no more of you, 
until the ogress gets back ; I am going to enjoy my¬ 
self. Yes, Kitty, my dear, have a good time while 
you can, for two weeks won’t last alway,” and, half 
running and skipping the length of the great hall, 
she caught her gipsy hat from a peg, and sped down 
the stone steps. 

“ She’s as gay as ony butterfly, noo’ the mistress 
geeVI awa’,” said the old butler to himself, as he 
watched her admiringly; “’t is mony ihe time I ’ve 
seen her mither, a takin’ that same path. Myblessin’ 
on her bonnie head.” 

“Here I am at last,” said Kitty, seating, or rather 
throwing herself, at the foot of a great tree whose 
branches overhung the lake; “ what a glorious run I 
did have.” 

“Did you, indeed !” said a voice close by. 

Kitty started to her feet and looked about her. 
In a little cove to the right—under the shade of the 
friendly trees—was moored a gaily painted boat, and 
in it reclined Mr. Mason, with book in hand, leisurely 
puffing away at his Havana. 

“Where did you come from?” said Kitty, begin¬ 
ning to pout. 

“From across the lake,” replied that young man, 
composedly. “The old boy is sketching over yonder, 
as usual,” pointing to the island, “and as I grew 
somewhat weary of his company, I concluded to taks 


The meeting in the cove 


115 


a row. The shade of these friendly trees lured me 
to this spot, but I had no intention of landing,” he 
added somewhat sarcastically. 

Now, as much as Kitty in her rebellious little 
heart detested Miss Hinkley, she was loyal to her in 
this respect : she never spoke lightly of her in the 
presence of others. U I am under her roof and par¬ 
take of her bread,” she reasoned, “ and it is not for 
me to speak of her failings.” So, deeming that a 
complete ignoring of this gentleman’s latter remark 
was by far the wisest plan, she said in a dignified 
tone: 

“ May I ask what you are reading, Mr. Mason ?” 

The young man held up for her inspection, a book 
on Grecian Mythology. 

“I was,” he replied gaily, “reviewing a much 
neglected study of my schooldays, in order to be 
able to converse, intelligibly, with my cousin, Mr. 
Otis, who firmly believes that the gods and goddesses 
still exist; and who declares most emphatically that 
a siren haunts this very lake. Yes, a veritable siren, 
who sings in the same sweet tones which she used 
long ago, when, with her sisters, she inhabited that 
enchanted island in the iEgean Sea, and luj’ed men to 
their death. I shall take good care not to meet with 
her, Miss Kaw.” 

“ Oh,” said Kitty, gravely, “ you have no need to 
fear; that was such a great time ago, when men’s hearts 
were fresh and unsuspecting, and they were more 
easily made victims of than at the present day.” 

“ I do not know,” he replied, looking admiringly 


8 


116 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


at the girl, u I fear we are not much improved in 
that respect since Adam, or taking my mythology 
into account, since Ephimetius received Pandora for 
his wife, in spite of the warning of Prometheus. 
We are all apt to yield to afterthought, Miss Kaw.” 

“ I think,” said Kitty, hardly heeding him, her 
eyes fixed on a rosy cloud in the distance, “ the old 
Greeks had a beautiful way of accounting for things. 
I love to fancy Aurora opening the palace of Helios 
every morning, and sprinkling her rosy dawn about 
the sky ; the sunrise is always so beautiful! Oh, 
dear ! I wish people believed in such things nowadays, 
and were not so dreadfully humdrum and practi¬ 
cal.” 

“Yes,” replied the young man, “the old Greeks 
combined the very essence of poetry in their concep¬ 
tions. They formed the basis for the most of our 
modern verse. Howsoever we may have progressed, 
we are always going back to glean again that time¬ 
worn field.” 

From this conversation these two young people 
fell into animated discussion of our English poets —■ 
Kitty bearing her part bravely; for you must not 
suppose that my heroine carried an empty head. No, 
indeed ! that young lady possessed a retentive mem¬ 
ory, and from her school days had stowed away a fair 
share of general knowledge. 

So interested did they become that the sun-god 
pointed his rays straight toward the earth before 
either realized the time. 

Kitty rose suddenly to go, but Mr. Mason reached 


THE MEETING IN THE COVE. 


117 


from his boat and took one little white hand in his 
own, and begged earnestly that he might have the 
pleasure of taking her for a row on the lake that 
Very evening. 

“The cat’s away, so the mice can play,” thought 
Kitty, 44 and where is the harm? I may as well en¬ 
joy myself,” and consented. 

Ralph Otis observed the smile upon his cousin’s 
face as he drew his boat upon the shore. With the 
aid of his glass the artist had made himself cognizant 
of the meeting between the two, and now he arose, 
pale and determined. 

“Mason,” he said, in a tone that caused that young 
man to start, “I wish to ask you one question : Are 
you trifling with that girl? If you are, by heaven, 
though you were my own brother —” 

4 4 Trifling with whom ? ” asked Mason, in surprise. 

44 With Kitty Kaw. Are you not engaged to 
Lady Cecilia Brandon ? ” 

44 No, I am not, nor ever shall be. Set your heart 
at rest, old boy ! When I trifle with that angel-faced 
girl, over yonder, you may cut my black heart from 
my bosom by inches.” 

A look of relief came over the artist’s face, though 
the pained expression did not leave it. He grasped 
his cousin’s hand, and wrung it heartily. 

44 How could you think me so base, old boy?” 
asked Lord Mason. 44 God knows,” he said earnest¬ 
ly, 44 how gladly, could I but teach her to love me, I 
would make her my wife. She is the only girl I can 
ever love, Ral. ” 


118 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


“You will win her,' 1 said th© artist, huskily; 
“ how can you help it? ” 

“Thank you,” he said, looking earnestly at his 
companion artist, as if a vague suspicion of something 
wrong had suddenly taken possession of him; “but 
tell me, dear old boy, was there anything between 
you and her before I cut in ? If I thought there was, 
I would leave for England to-morrow.” 


THE PROPOSAL. 


119 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE PROPOSAL. 

“ Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight ? " 

Y OU have seen the stately lilies lifting their 
white heads in the moonlight, as you passed 
down your garden walk, and you have stooped to 
admire more closely their wondrous beauty and 
breathe the delicate perfume they shed ! Kitty Kaw 
looked as fair and stately as one of these white lilies, 
as she sat in the bow of the boat that night, with a 
fleecy drapery enveloping her head and shoulders, 
and her lovely eyes shining like the stars above her. 

It was charming — this row over the lake in the 
soft moonlight. Although Kitty could not rid herself 
of the feeling that it would be in aunt Hester’s eyes 
(could she see her) a heinous crime ; neither could she 
resist a feeling of intense enjoyment, as they glided 
smoothly over the water, leaving a shining arrow of 
light behind them. When the eyes opposite met hers 
she could not overcome the flutter of delight that 
filled her bosom, or put down the conscious blush that 
mantled to her cheek. 

As for Mr. Mason, he forgot England; he forgot 
Lady Cecilia Brandon; he forgot his mother’s deep 
displeasure ; he forgot all — everything, only that he 
loved this peerless creature, sitting so near him, and 


120 


A FAIR TLEBEIAN. 


that he longed to tell her so—longed to clasp her close 
in his arms and rain kisses upon her soft red lips. 

He forgot that precipitation is too often ruin, and 
before he was scarcely aware of his intentions, he was 
pouring out a passionate avowal of his love. 

“I love you,” he said earnestly. “ Life will be 
as nothing to me without you ! Will you be my 
wife ? ” 

“Oh, don’t!” gasped Kitty with a frightened 
little sob; “mercy sake, don’t! Aunt Hester would 
be so very angry.” 

“Aunt Hester!” exclaimed the young man, in 
accents of lofty scorn, “why should you care for her f 
What has she ever done for you, but ill-treat and 
abuse you ? My darling, do not think of her, but 
come to me ! ” 

“ I shall be very pleased if you will row me to the 
shore,” said Kitty, all at once, in the coldest of tones. 
“I can not and will not allow you to speak disparag- 
✓ ingly to me of my aunt and companion.” 

“ Don’t you love me, Kitty ? ” he pleaded. ‘ c Say 
once that you love me ! ” 

“ Indeed, I shall not say any such a thing,” replied 
Kitty, firmly. “I wish to go ashore, Mr. Mason ! I 
repeat, I wish to go ashore ! ” 

The young man bit his lips till the blood came, 
and putting his utmost strength to the oars, the offend¬ 
ed damsel soon found herself upon terra firma. 

Now, Kitty Kaw had never before in her short life 
possessed a veritable lover. Her school days had 
known many boyish admirers, but no one had evei* 


THE PROPOSAL. 


121 


said to her, like this young man, “ Kitty, I love you. 
Will you be my wife ? ” 

“Will you be my wife?” A question that any 
man has a right to put to the woman he loves ; and, 
although this little lady’s brain was now in a whirl of 
strange emotions, and she could scarcely tell whether 
she wanted to laugh or cry most, she was dimly sen¬ 
sible of an honor conferred upon her. Stealing a 
glance into the dark, angry face before her, which she 
admired in spite of herself, she felt her heart soften¬ 
ing toward this much-abused young man. “ Ought 
she not to apologize ! ” 

“I am very sorry if I have offended you,” she 
said softly. 

The shadows disappeared instantly, and his face 
lit up with a rare smile. “I have been hasty,” he 
said, in self-reproachful tones; “I should not have 
spoken to you in this manner—you scarcely know 
me. My only excuse is, that in my great love for 
you I forgot all else. Now, I only ask that you will 
not utterly deprive me of the faint hope that I may, 
in some distant day, win your regard ? ” 

Kitty made no reply, but drooped her head and 
blushed like a school-girl; and Mr. Mason, in all 
probability, applying the old adage, “that silence 
gives consent,” pressed the little white hand for one 
moment in his bwn, and departed quite well satis¬ 
fied. 

As Kitty fled up the steps to the terrace she came 
unexpectedly upon Jane, who, from behind a con¬ 
venient pine tree, had been inquisitively watching 

0 


m 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN 1 . 


Mr. Mason, and listening intently to the foregoing 
conversation. 

“Oh, Jane ,' 5 gasped Kitty, in a sudden spasm of 
terror, “ don’t tell aunt Hester you saw me out there; 
don’t tell a living soul, and I’ll give you that new leg¬ 
horn fiat you admired so much.” 

“’Deed I won’t, then,” said Jane. “I wouldn’t 
never think to tell, miss ; but ”—adding under her 
breath, as Kitty passed into the house—“may like 
I’ll drop a mere hint to the mistress. No, I won’t 
tell; for a hint to my mistress is like the scent of a 
bone to a hungry dog, an’ I’ll bet she’ll ferret the 
hull out in no time, an* mayhaps give me a new lawn 
gown for me pains. Ah, Jane, you’re a cunning 
one ! ” 

Kitty retired immediately to her own room, where, 
opening the shutters, she drew a chair into the bar of 
the moonlight that streamed in, and sat down to think 
over what had occurred. 

“I hope,” she said to herself, in exact imitation 
of Miss Hester v s tones, “ Katherine Kaw, you are not 
going to commit the atrocious act of falling in love 
with this young man ? I won’t allow it! Do you 
hear me? —I won’t allow it! You ought to be 
ashamed of yourself for going out on the water 
this evening ! To-morrow, madam, you shall make 
yourself a shirred cap and a black bombazine dress, 
and put away all these youthful follies as becomes a 
Hinkley. Why, your seventeen illustrious grand- 
fathe'rs would turn in their very graves could they 
know of your goings on. 


THE PROPOSAL. 


123 


“Oh, dear—her tone changing—what a harrow¬ 
ing thing to have a lover one must not love ! I do 
feel so sorry for him ! Shall I allow him to hope, as 
he wishes ? I can not see any harm in one’s hoping— 
providing nothing comes of it. Yes, he may, only I 
fear it will become very monotonous. But (yawn¬ 
ing) I am dreadful sleepy—to bed, to bed. I won¬ 
der if I shall dream of dark eyes and a fine face— 
who knows ? Ah, me (deprecatingly), how silly 
I am growing ! Katherine, I verily believe you are 
merging into your second childhood. Think of your 
descending from your pedestal to turn your thoughts 
to dark orbs and a fine face ! ” 

Kitty’s dreams were not thus haunted; instead of 
the dark orbs and the fine face, she beheld a woman 
with light hair and blue eyes—a woman who bore in 
her faded face a look of hatred, as she leaned far over 
the bed and unsheathed a long bright dagger. 

The girl awoke with a cry of terror, only to find 
the sun shining brightly in at her window, and the 
birds singing gaily amid the ivy branches outside. 

“How real it seemed!” she exclaimed; “and 
how very glad I am that it was all a dream.” 


124 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


SECRETS OF THE GOLDEN CROSS. 


Vengeance is still alive; from her dark covert, 
With all her snakes erect upon her breast. 

She stalks in view, and fires me with her charms. 


—Young's Revenge. 


CAB drew up before the Golden Cross (a dingy 



JLJL. little inn in one of the most obscure streets of 
the village of Bradleigh, Lincolnshire, England), and 
a stranger alighted, who, upon feeing the cabman and 
securing a light valise, made his way into the ill-kept 
public room. The landlord—an old man, past eighty 
—came limping forward to receive his guest. His 
face expressed great surprise ; for the inn had long 
since fallen from its high estate, and was now known 
only as a place frequented by drovers, or the servants 
of the neighboring nobility. They sometimes stopped 
to quaff a tumbler of ale, or take a hand at poker of a 
winter’s eve. 

“You’re Avelcome, sir,” said the landlord in a 
creaky Amice, Avhich resembled the sound of an old 
door swinging on its rusty hinges ; “and you couldn’t 
ha’ done better than to come to the Golden Cross. 
She’s bin in running order these fifty years, sir, and it 
hain’t no Avays likely she’s goin’ to be put down by up¬ 
starts like that yonder ”— pointing Avith his lean fore- 


SECRETS OF THE GOLDEN CROSS. 


125 


finger to a modern and more pretentious inn. “ Here, 
sir, is where you get your old customs ; and them’s 
the only customs that stand for aught in my eyes. 
What do we care, sir, for new-fangled ways ? ” 

“ Nothing, friend,” said the stranger. “You and 
I are long past that. Let young heads take to new 
ways ; we’ll keep to the old. Meanwhile, I’m tired 
and hungry ; can you give me something to eat, and 
make ready a bed for the night ? ” 

“Yes, yes,” said the landlord, heartily. “I’ll 
call Matilda. The old woman ain’t as she once was ; 
but she’ll serve you better than many a younger lass, 
I’ll warrant.” 

The stranger nodded his approval to this, and the 
old man hobbled away chuckling to himself. 

Left alone, he looked keenly about him. “It has 
not changed,” he muttered. “It was behind that 
very door, that I listened to them, talking together. 
Ah, my lady, you deemed yourself safe then ; you 
wotted not that even walls may have ears. He is 
dead now — him you wronged so long ago; but I 
live, my lady ; 1 live to avenge him ! ” 

The sound of a crutch on the brick floor roused 
the stranger from his reverie. 

“A fair day to you, sir,” called out the little old 
landlady, in the shrillest of tones. “How can I 
serve ye ? ” 

“ With something to eat, my good woman, and a 
bed for the night” 

The landlady drew her husband aside and conferred 
earnestly with him. At last the old man approached 


126 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


the stranger, looking very shame-faced, and said, hes¬ 
itatingly : “The Golden Cross ain’t at her better, sir. 
She’d so many Last week day, that the old woman 
says the larder’s cleaned. ” 

“And you wish to replenish it,” said the stranger, 
handing him a sovereign. “Go and buy enough for 
me and yourself, too.” 

“A fine gentleman! one of the real old English 
stock,” said the old couple to themselves, as they hob¬ 
bled away as fast as their rheumatic limbs would carry 
them, to do his bidding. 

After the stranger had partaken of his meal, he 
inquired of the landlord “if a certain lawyer, named 
Martins, could be found in the village? ” 

“ Yes,” replied the old man, “ you ’ll see his sign 
from yonder corner.” 

Mr. Martins was busy among his papers when a 
knock sounded at the outer door, and presently his 
clerk announced a gentleman wishing to see him upon 
private business. Y 

“Show him in,” commanded the lawyer. 

“ I am here,” said a voice, and the stranger pushed 
open the door and stood upon the threshold, gazing 
earnestly at the lawyer, who had gotten down from 
his high stool and was advancing to meet him. 

“Don’t you know me, Martins?” he asked, pres¬ 
ently. 

“ My God ! ” gasped the lawyer, “ can it be you, 
John Silvester?” 

“Yes, it is I, sure enough. Did you think me 
dead, that you stare so ? ” 


SECRETS OF THE GOLDEN CROSS. 


127 


“ Where — where is he f ” faltered Martins. 

“Dead; else I should not be here. While he 
lived, I remained faithful to him ; and now that he is 
gone, I have come to revenge him.” 

u What can you do? ” said the lawyer, slowly. 

“What can I do? ha, ha ! ” laughed the stranger, 
wildly. “ What can I do, Samuel Martins? Expose 
all! Ah, I have come this time with a purpose that 
bodes no good to the woman who ruined Lawrence 
Reynolds’ life ! I have come to humble her proud 
head in the very dust.” 

“Speak low, Silvester,” whispered the lawyer. 
“Did you not know that the boy heirs Grantly Man¬ 
or? If you bring ruin upon the mother, you cast 
him out of his inheritance.” 

“Which is an unlawful inheritance,” said the 
stranger, sternly. Wrong has gone on long enough, 
I tell you, Samuel Martins ! Even this boy must 
suffer. ” 

“ Where are your proofs? ” 

“In your possession. Listen, Martins! One 
night, long ago, I overheard you, plotting with my 
lady, at the inn of the Golden Cross. You thought 
yourselves safe ; but I was hid behind the inner door, 
and saw and heard all. You showed her papers, and 
she paid you the price of your silence. You shall 
now deliver up those papers to me. ” 

“And what, if I refuse? ” 

“You dare not. Have you forgotten, Samuel 
Martins, that one word from me — one word, spoken 
as to the murder of John Bodie, would find you in 


128 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


prison, under the very shadow of the gallows? Dare 
you defy my power ? ” 

The lawyer turned a sickly white, and would have 
fallen, had not the stranger caught him by the shoul¬ 
der and shook him roughly. 

“Tush! man,” he said, sternly, “only obey me, 
and you have nothing to fear. What was the man 
you murdered so long ago, to me ? I but reminded 
you of him, that you might know I was not to be 
put off. Bring me the papers ! ” 

With a hand that still trembled, the lawyer 
unlocked his private secretary, and taking from a 
secret drawer a roll of papers, handed them to the 
stranger. 

He unrolled them, and examined each sheet sepa¬ 
rately. “Yes, they are all here. This is her marriage 
certificate ; and this is the date of the child’s birth. 
Ah, Eleanore Ashley, for many a long year you have 
played your game well; but it is nearly at the close. 
Hist! Martins, how came you by these papers ? ” 

“You remember, Silvester, the night she fled with 
Lord Nelson ? Well, from a shadowed corner I 
chanced to see her enter the carriage. As she did so, 
something dropped to the ground and lay there, glim¬ 
mering faintly in the dusky gaslight. I crossed over 
and picked it up. It was these papers. In her haste 
they had dropped unnoticed. I kept them, and a few 
years later they served me a good turn. I was, at that 
time, an insignificant young barrister ; and after some¬ 
thing happened, I was forced to flee the country. I 
came to England, and settled here in Bradleigh ; but 


SECRETS OF THE GOLDEN CROSS. 


129 


I did not prosper. I had little enough to recommend 
me. One day, as I was lounging in front of my office, 
I saw my lady’s carriage pass, and recognized her in 
it. I inquired in a careless fashion of some one stand¬ 
ing near me, and learned that Lord Nelson Grantly 
had married while in Spain, and had spent a year or 
more in traveling, during which time a child was 
born, in the southern part of Italy. It was a clever 
story, but I saw my fortune in it. One day, I sought 
the manor, and intercepted my lady in her walk. At 
first she would not recognize me ; but I soon con¬ 
vinced her that I was not to be put off, and she at last 
promised me the interview at the Golden Cross, which 
you say you overheard. With money she sealed my 
lips, and I was at once taken into favor by Lord Nel¬ 
son, as the family solicitor, and have remained so 
ever since.” 

“ My lady’s secrets are not immortal,” muttered 
the stranger. “Thank you, Martins, for the papers, 
and good night. To-morrow I will call for further 
particulars.” 

As the outer door closed behind him, the lawyer 
sank into a chair, his face still of an ashen hue. “ I 
thought,” he muttered, hoarsely—“I thought he 
must be dead. Can the dead return ? No, it is he— 
alive and well. Curse it!—why did I give him those 
papers? What could he bring against me, for an old 
murder that was forgotten long ago ? I have been a 
fool! The secret is no longer mine, and I might 
have made a fortune out of it. Curse it! I say.” 

The “ next morning,” punctual, the stranger again 


130 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


made his appearance in the lawyer's office. “I wish 
to know,” he said, authoritatively, “all about the 
family—particularly of Lord Grantly. Does he re¬ 
semble his father ? ” 

“He is like him in every respect,” said the law¬ 
yer, “and as proud as Lucifer.” 

‘ ‘ Is he married ? ” 

“No; but report says he is soon to marry the Lady 
Cecilia Brandon, of Brandon Park. The two estates 
join, and will make a most noble property.” 

“ When are the nuptials to take place? ” 

4 4 Lord Grantly is now in America ; immediately 
upon his return, I presume.” 

44 Hist! Martins,” whispered the stranger, his 
eyes lighting up fiercely ; “I have it. I’ll wait and 
pay her out that night—the night of her only son’s 
marriage. When the guests are all assembled—just 
before the ceremony takes place—they shall hear 
from me. Then, my lady, his turn shall have come ; 
poor, heart-broken Lawrence Reynolds’ turn shall 
have come ! Ah, that will be a gay time, a glorious 
time !—ha, ha, ha ! ” and the wild laugh again filled 
the office. “ Good-by, Martins; adieu, dear old fel¬ 
low, till then. Yes, till then, good-by.” The stranger 
strode out at the door, muttering over and over again 
those ominous words—“ till then ! ” 

4 ‘Good God ! ” exclaimed the lawyer, gazing after 
him, “that laugh made the cold chills creep all over 
me. Living so long with him has turned his 
brain. And to think of the purpose he is bent upon ! 
Yes, as surely as John Silvester lives, he will execute 


SECRETS OF THE GOLDEN CROSS. 


131 


that purpose. Then, woe to you, Eleanore Ashley ; 
woe to you, my lady, with your haughty head and 
high-born airs ; woe to you, who have measured the 
distance between us for years. I wonder, then, if 
you can recollect when you were only a peasant girl ? 
Ah, it will be a rare time !—a tine tableau ! ” and the 
lawyer rubbed his hands together, briskly, in antici¬ 
pation of the scene. ‘‘There’ll stand my lady in her 
tine feathers, bestowing her smiles on every side; 
there’ll stand my lord, looking as proud as Lucifer, 
and every inch a king ; and last, but not least, the 
little Brandon fool, leaning upon his arm. The priest 
is about to begin the marriage ceremony, when be¬ 
hold, John Silvester enters ! Now comes the de¬ 
nouement. Presto ! confusion reigns. My lady drops 
senseless upon the floor ; the bride fills the air with 
her screams ; while my lord, never stirring, never 
bowing for one instant his haughty head, seems 
slowly turning to stone. Ah, it will be well worth 
seeing ! I would not miss it—no, not for the price 
of my thousand pounds. Mistress Grantly shall not 
fail to invite me . 52 


132 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER XV. 


SOME AWFUL SHADOW. 


0, what authority and show of truth 
Can cunning siu cover Itself withal! 


HEN is Mason coming home ? ” inquired Lady 



VV Cecilia Brandon, impatiently, as she sat op¬ 
posite Lady Eleanore, in her boudoir. 

“Soon, petite ,” answered that lady—“soon to 
you. Then we shall have a grand wedding at Bran¬ 
don Park—Mason has said as much.” 

“ Why does he not write to me ? ” 

“Pure bashfulness, via chere . In spite of his 
eight and twenty years, the dear boy has never been 
able to outgrow it. But yon do not doubt that he 
loves you ? If you do, listen, petite , while I tell you 
what he said in his last letter to me. 1 She must un¬ 
derstand, mother, that I love her, and that I will 
gladly make her my bride the instant I have gained 
her dear consent.’ ” 

Lady Cecilia’s eyes brightened. “How good of 
you to tell me this, dear Lady Grantly ! ” 

“ You think so, petite. It is all a secret, you 


SOME AWFUL SHADOW. 


133 


know. You must never breathe a word of it to Ma¬ 
son, or the poor" enfant would die of mortification. 
Dear, dear, what a silly fellow he is! ” 

“ Indeed, I shall never breathe a word of it for 
fear he will cease telling you those sweet things. Do 
you not think it would be quite proper, if I should 
write and tell him that I love him ?—he seems so 
worried.” 

“ Well, hardly, my pet. Young ladies are obliged 
to be extremely cautious in their love affairs. 1 
know my poor, dear boy would be delighted, and per¬ 
haps shed tears of joy over your sweet, little letter ; 
but I fear it would not just do. It would be against 
the rules of society.” 

“And must we always adhere to these rules?” 

“Yes, mon amie. We women are slaves to Mrs. 
Grundy. It is utterly impossible for us to trans¬ 
gress and not pay the penalty; but if you wish to 
send some little message to Mason, by me, I will un¬ 
dertake to deliver it.” 

“May I, dear Lady Grantly?—then tell him for 
me, not to despair—there is hope.” 

“ You sweet pet! how those few words will com¬ 
fort the poor lonely enfant! Must you really go, 
now? Adieu, then, chere , until to-morrow.” 

Lady Grantly watched Lady Cecilia’s pony phae¬ 
ton disappear down the avenue. “ Mason must 
return,” she said, impatiently. “He can not marry 
this girl too quickly. I feel that some awful shadow 
is hanging over me. Oh, God ! is this secret I have 


134 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


kept locked fast in my bosom so many years, to be 
unearthed at last? 

“ I will write to-day, and demand my son’s imme¬ 
diate presence. He will not disobey me. Only give 
me time to secure his welfare, then the worst may 
come. ” 


THE BETROTHAL. 


135 


CHAPTER XYI. 


THE BETROTHAL. 

Doubt tliou the stars are fire ; 

Doubt that the sun doth move ; 
Doubt truth to be a liar ; 

But never doubt I love. 


— Hamlet. 



HAT are bolts and bars to a lover—especially 


VV to such an earnest lover as Mr. Mason ? Was 
it strange, then, that Kitty should accidentally meet 
him, next morning? and was it strange that these 
accidental meetings should continue? or that that 
young lady, when wandering in the park at a certain 
hour, should find her feet straying unconsciously 
towards the little cove, where a gayly-painted boat 
was pretty sure to be moored ! No, it was not strange, 
although Kitty persisted in declaring it so, and always 
expressed, upon each occasion of these meetings, im¬ 
mense surprise. Poor, foolish little maiden ! Mr. 
Mason was not so blind but he readily saw through 
these thinly-disguised ruses, and his hopes rose accord¬ 
ingly. He forgot his promise to remain silent, and 
upon each meeting pleaded his suit in a right royal 
fashion. 

And what was the matter with Kitty Kaw ? Why 
should her great, lovely eyes veil themselves beneath 
their white curtains, and such a deep rose-color come 


136 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


into her pretty cheeks, as she listened to this young 
man’s protestations? Ah, Eros had shot his arrow 
straight, and Kitty had fallen a victim. 

“He is so good and noble and true,” she said 
softly to herself, as she sauntered through the park, 
“and I — I love him. Oh, dear ! aunt Plester is com¬ 
ing home to-morrow ; then I can never see him again. 
I must tell him so to-night.” 

The soft gray shadows of twilight were stealing 
over the grasses and over the silver water of the lake, 
when Kitty Kaw reached the trysting place that even¬ 
ing. Mr. Mason, who was waiting impatiently, 
caught the first echo of her light foot-fall, and sprang 
from his boat to the bank. 

‘ * She is coming—my own, my sweet; 

Were it ever so airy a tread, 

My heart would hear her, and beat; 

Were it earth, in an earthy bed, 

My dust would hear her and beat; 

Had I lain for a century dead, 

Would start and tremble under her feet, 

And blossom in purple and red.” 

“My darling!”he exclaimed, reproachfully, “you 
are very late.” 

“I could not get away,” said Kitty; “Jane 
watched me so. I am sure she suspects something, 
and will tell aunt Hester when she returns to-morrow ; 
then, Mr.—Mr. Mason, I must not see you again.” 

“Not see me again! that would be worse than 
death to me. I can not give you up, Kitty. I love 
you too truly.” 


THE BETROTHAL. 


137 


The girl drooped her head, but did not attempt to 
draw away the little white hand which he held so 
closely in his own. 

“Don’t you love me, Kitty ? ” he pleaded. “Will 
you not be my own little wife ? ” 

There was no answer, but Mr. Mason’s arm stole 
about her waist, and he drew her close to him until 
the beautiful golden head rested upon his shoulder. 
Bending, he pressed one long, passionate kiss upon 
her lips. 

“My darling,” he murmured, “say that you love 
me.” 

A white arm stole about his neck, and Kitty Kaw 
whispered, ever so softly, words that have gladdened 
the lover’s heart from time immemorial: “I love 
you.” 

A shower of kisses showed that these words were 
fully appreciated. “One thing more, darling,” 
he said, “and I shall be fully convinced: Kiss 
me.” 

The trembling red lips rested upon his own for 
one instant — rested as lightly as the dew upon the 
rose; then Kitty Kaw hid her bashful face on her 
lover’s shoulder. 

“ What if I am poor, Kitty ? ” he asked, presently. 
“ Can, you be a poor man’s wife ? ” 

“I never thought,” said Kitty. “Of course you 
are poor. Papa was poor, but mamma loved him 
always. ” 

“And are you willing to share my humble lot, 
dearest ?” 


6* 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


13* 


“Yes,” she replied, earnestly, “because I love 
you.” 

“Because I love you.” Could he have borne 
these words in mind ; could he only have trusted her, 
long years of sorrow might have been spared him. 

And there they sat until the moon crept over the 
brow of the mountain and flung her silver trail upon 
the water ; then Kitty remembered that she must go 
home, and with a long, reluctant farewell, the lovers 
parted. 

As the young lady walked swiftly along in the 
direction of the house, a figure emerged from a clump 
of trees near by, and followed close in her wake. It 
was Jane, who wore on her head the reward of her 
secresy, the Leghorn flat, but who was bent upon pick¬ 
ing up a few hints to drop in Miss Hester’s ear, at the 
price of a new lawn. 

“Lauk o’ mercy! good land!” she exclaimed to 
herself, “I saw him kiss her, an’ all that love talk 
goin’ on! Why, he’s wus ’an my Henry. I never 
see the beat! Won’t the mistress gobble down this ! 
Won’t she be mad ! I expect she ’ll rub her glasses 
clean through. And won’t Miss Kitty ketch it! I 
would n’t be in her shoes for nothing on this airth ! 
Ah, I guess this fine bit ’ll bring that lawn, and per¬ 
haps turn me an honest shilling. O Jane, you ’re a 
cunning one! ” 

Mr. Mason, his face beaming with happiness, lit 
a cigar, and returning to his boat, rowed away over 
the lake, his oars lifting the shining water at every 
stroke. 


THE BETROTHAL. 


139 


“ God bless her! ” he said softly to himself; u how 
her sweet face will light up the old manor I verily 
believe, even the solemn faces of the dead and gone 
Grantlys, hanging against the walls, will smile down 
on my bonnie little wife, when they hear her silvery 
laugh. And she loves me for myself, alone. I have 
won her without the aid of riches. No title has been 
flaunted before her eyes ; but I, my humble self—a 
strolling artist, as perhaps she deems me—have won 
this peerless creature. Well, she shall not repent it. 
Let me see, the ogress returns to-morrow. I shall 
hasten to present myself. With all her Hinkley 
pride, I have no fear that she will look unfavorably 
upon a Grantly for her niece. My poor little Kitty, 
how she fears her; when I have disclosed my true 
self, all of that will be past.” 

Ralph Otis was busily at work that night, when 
Mr. Mason entered his room. 

u Congratulate me, old boy,” said the young man, 
going straight to his cousin’s chair; “I have won 
her.” 

A deathly pallor overspread the artist’s face, and 
he bent closer over his work to hide the fierce pain 
that struggled for mastery. 

“ Won whom ? ” he asked faintly. 

“ The sweetest girl in all the world—Kitty Kaw. 
Oh, Ralph, old boy, you, who have never loved, can 
not know how I love her. Why, I would willingly, 
nay,' gladly, lay down my life to serve her. God 
bless you, old fellow ! I owe all my happiness to 
you. From the moment I read the letter, in which 


140 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


you described her to me, I loved her. It was the 
half undefined hope that I might find her as you said, 
that brought me to America. I say again, God bless 
you ! ” and Mr. Mason seized Ralph Otis’ hand and 
wrung it heartily. 

44 You deserve to be happy, cousin,” replied the 
artist: 44 accept my sincere congratulations and best 
wishes for your future. She is a sweet girl! But 
leave me now ; you look so insanely happy that I 
shall grow jealous in spite of myself.” 

4 ‘But I wished to talk over my plans with you, 
Ral.” 

44 Not to-night, dear boy”—laying his hand with 
almost womanly tenderness on the young man’s 
shoulder— 44 1 wish to be alone. Go now, and may 
Gpd bless you.” 

44 You are not off your pins, Ral?” asked the 
young man, gazing anxiously into his friend’s face. 
44 You don’t look as hearty as usual.” 

44 1 am all right, old fellow,” he said, pushing him 
gently from the room. 44 Yes, I am all right,” he re¬ 
peated to himself— 44 all right; or I shall be as soon 
as I get a little used to this pain. I wish him joy. 
She could never have loved me ; while I—it was pre¬ 
sumptuous—but /loved her better than I did my own 
soul. God help me ! ”—and laying his head upon his 
arm, deep sobs shook his broad chest, as he mourned, 
alone, over the dream that was forever past. 

Lord Mason, utterly unconscious of the sorrow he 
had awakened, whistled softly an old love tune, as he 
took down his writing-desk from the shelf in his room, 


THE BETEOTHAL. 


141 


and selecting paper and pen proceeded to indite the 
following epistle to his mother—the Lady Eleanore 
Grantly : 

My Dear Mother: 

Prepare yourself for a surprise. Knowing that it has long 
been } r our earnest desire to see me happily wedded, I have at last 
brought myself to look upon the matter in a favorable light. In 
fact, I am about to be married; and—I can only use the words of 
the illustrious Traddles—“ to the dearest girl! ” 

I am quite certain that in your desiring me to wed Lady Ce¬ 
cilia Brandon, you were actuated by the fact that she belonged to 
as ancient and as noble a family as our own; I therefore take 
pleasure in announcing to you, that you will have no cause to 
blush for your future daughter-in-law. Although American born, 
she is highly connected. Her mother was a Hinkley, of a near 
branch of the Hinkleys of Devonshire ; who, if you will recollect, 
fell heir to their illustrious title (considerably prior to our own 
family) in the reign of Henry the Eighth. I have their geneal- 
ogycomplete, and will explain all satisfactorily to you upon our 
arrival in England. 

My intended bride is without property; her mother having 
married a respectable gentleman, but unfortunately against her 
father’s wishes. She was, therefore, cut off from her share of the 
estate, which fell entire to her only sister—Hester Hinkley—with 
whom my future wife—Kitty Kaw—now resides. As I have al¬ 
ready property enough, and to spare, this fact does not weigh for 
a moment in the balance. I love Kitty with my whole soul, and 
that suffices 1 hope, dear mother, that you will see as I do, and 
give my little wife a hearty welcome. She is motherless, and a 
mother’s love will prove acceptable, indeed. 

We shall probably return to England sometime in November. 
In the meanwhile, I desire that you shall refit the north rooms for 
her accommodation, and refurnish the whole house with what¬ 
ever is needed. You can draw on Martins. 

Hoping, dear mother, I shall receive your blessing soon, I re¬ 
main— 

Your affectionate son, 

Mason Grantly. 


142 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


THE NOCTURNAL VISIT 


Double, double, toil and trouble. 


—Macbeth. 


ADY CECILIA BRANDON had come over to 



J J Grantly Manor, for the purpose of spending a 
week with Lady Eleanore, whose society, owing to 
the general topic of conversation—“ my son, Mason ” 
—was peculiarly agreeable to the little lady. 

The two were seated in Lady Eleanore’s boudoir, 
at lunch, upon this particular morning ; and my lady 
was in the midst of a glowing recital, pertaining to 
Lord Mason’s deep, but hidden, affection for the Lady 
Cecilia, when she was interrupted by the entrance of 
her maid, bringing a letter. 

“From Mason,” said my lady, her sallow face 
lighting up with pleasure. “ Ah, now we shall know 
when he really is to return. I dare say the boy is as 
anxious as we for that day.” 

She tore open the envelope hastily, and putting 
on her gold-bowed spectacles (merely from habit, 
however, for Lady Eleanore would never for a mo¬ 
ment own that she wore them from necessity) began 
to read. 

Suddenly she uttered a smothered exclamation of 
pain—the letter dropped from her nerveless hand, 
and my lady fell forward in a swoon. 


THE NOCTURNAL VISIT, 


143 


Lady Cecilia screamed lustily for help, and com¬ 
menced a fruitless chase up and down the apartment, 
wringing her hands in the most helpless manner. 
The screams, however, quickly brought Jeannette, 
the maid, who, displaying considerable more presence 
of mind, snatched up the ewer, and dashed its con¬ 
tents full in her mistress’s face. It produced the 
desired effect, in spite of its diminishing very percept¬ 
ibly the artificial bloom on the sallow cheeks, for with 
a long, shuddering sigh Lady Eleanore Grantly slow¬ 
ly opened her eyes. 

“The letter; my letter,” she whispered faintly, 
and would not be satisfied until it was placed safely in 
her hand. 

“ Oh, dear Lady Grantly,” sobbed Lady Cecilia, 
“I was so frightened! Why did you faint? Is 
Mason ill ? oh, do tell me ! ” 

“No, no ; Mason is well. It was only the oppress¬ 
ive heat of the room,” faltered Lady Eleanore. 
“ Leave me now ! I wish to be alone for a little time, 
petite. My head aches sadly, and a short sleep will 
do me good. I shall be better soon. 

Lady Cecilia obeyed reluctantly. Jeannette re¬ 
mained to draw the shutters, and was also dismissed. 

As soon as she was fairly alone, Lady Eleanore 
drew her son’s letter from her bosom, and read it care¬ 
fully from beginning to end. 

“ It is true ! it is true ! ” she moaned, flinging it 
passionately from her. “ I did not know but I might 
have dreamed it! Oh, what can I do ? What shall I 
do ? If this marriage should take place, I am undone ! 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


144 

Who is this bold upstart that has dared to steal my 
son’s heart? — a penniless, insignificant girl! Does 
he think that the old name of Hinkley will buj' bread ( 
Does he think that it will turn the finger of scorn 
from the beggar ? Ah, he little knows. I tell you, 
lie must not—he shall not—marry this girl! I will 
move heaven and earth to prevent it! How dare he 
dream of it when he knows my wish ? when he knows 
that Lady Cecilia Brandon has been, and is, looked 
upon by the world, as his intended wife ? Heaven 
only knows how I have intrigued for that ungrateful 
boy ! how I have steeped my soul in lies, that I might 
forward his interests ! My Avhole life has been one 
dark falsehood. I have lived in sin ; I shall die in 
sin ; and if there be a hereafter, I — O God ! forgive 
me ! — I am lost! lost! lost! 

u Ah ! it was only last night that I thought I saw a 
face among a crowd — a face that I thought dead and 
in the grave — the face of John Silvester. Oh, if it 
should be he. how can I escape him % He will hunt 
me down, as the thirsty blooddiound hunts down the 
timid, panting deer — without mercy. How can I 
know but he may be already on my track ? If so, 
what hope is there for me or mine ? At any moment 
his perfidious blow may fall. But I must think ; I 
must plan. Perhaps once more I may escape, and 
with Mason safe, I can better bear the blow.” 

All that afternoon Lady Eleanore sat with her 
chin buried in her hand, lost in deep, absorbing 
thought. “The north rooms fitted up!” she ex¬ 
claimed at last, laughing hoarsety. “Ah, yes, my 


THU NOCTURNAL VISIT. 


145 


lord ; but not for your now-intended bride ! Perhaps 
that day, should you bring her here, you would find 
these doors closed against you, and the keys in the 
hand of the rightful owner. What then, my lord ; 
what then % A pretty welcome, truly, for your little 
bride. ” 

In vain Lady Cecilia knocked for admittance. 
She put her otf with. I am tired, and do not wish 
to be disturbed, child/' So the long Summer’s after¬ 
noon drew to a close, leaving her still plotting and 
planning. 

u There is but one person who can help me,” she 
muttered at last; u I must see him.” 

Rising wearily, she put aside her light silk robe, 
and donning a dark gray serge, wrapped herself in a 
mantle of the same color, and drawing the hood close¬ 
ly about her face, now pale as death, stole cautiously 
down the broad stair-case and out into the darkening 
twilight. 

“If.I take the path across the moor,” she solil¬ 
oquised, “ I shall soon be there. It is lonely, I know ; 
but 1 must go. It would be dangerous to wait until 
morning.” 

Suiting the action to her words, she passed quick¬ 
ly down the avenue, and taking a key from her pocket, 
unlocked a little gate at the left of the lodge, and let 
herself out. Pursuing the highway for a short distance, 
she turned abruptly down a by-lane, and by picking 
her lonely way for more than a mile, through patches 
of wood and across the deserted moor, she came at 
last to a bouse, half hid in a da?k hollow. It was as 
7 


146 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


uncanny a looking place as one would wisli to see ; a 
long, low building, surrounded by tall pines which 
sighed mournfully in the evening breeze, and seemed 
to gather the very darkness into their midst. At the 
first glance, one would take the house to be uninhab¬ 
ited— given over to nocturnal visitors, ghosts and 
bats ; but emerging from a clump of pines, a solitary 
light gleamed from a single window. Raising the 
latch to the rickety door, Lady Grantly entered direct¬ 
ly into a low, dingy room. The only occupants were 
an old hag, busy over a pot of herbs boiling on the 
fire, and a lad of fifteen, or thereabouts, conning a 
book by the light of a tallow-dip. Both started in 
amazement at her abrupt entrance. The youth rose, 
and bowing low, offered her his stool. 

“Weel,” snapped the old hag, returning to her 
herbs and scarcely bestowing a look of courtesy upon 
her guest, “ weel, what now may ye be kenting? It’s 
a lang time since the auld wooman’s saen ye.” 

u I have been busy, mother,” said the lady, “ and 
onfy came to-night to get Douglas to do an errand for 
me. I wish him to drive to Bradleigh, and bring back 
Lawyer Martins. I must see him to-night.” 

“ An’ why dinna sind yer ain sarvants ? ” queried 
the old creature, in fretful tones. 

‘‘Because I did not wish them to know of this 
visit, mother. Don’t fret! Douglas shall be well 
rewarded. You don’t mind going, do you, Douglas? ” 
“Not I,” said the boy, thrusting back his shaggy 
locks and disclosing a Ifroad forehead and fearless eye ; 
“I wish to go, and granny need not fret.” 


THU NOCTURNAL VISIT, 


147 


•‘Very well; make haste, then. While he is 
gone, mother, you shall tell my fortune,” and taking 
a piece of silver from her pocket, the lady proceeded 
to cross the old woman’s hand. 

“ Weed, weel,” she muttered, rocking herself back 
and forth, and scanning the extended hand closely ; 
“X see trouble, trouble, my lady, and care as dark as 
mony a night in thy wake. Ye’ll fall, my lady, fall, 

. fall, by a hand ye wronged lang ago, lang ago, my 
lady; ” and the old creature crossed herself and mut¬ 
tered her dismal augury over again—“ye'll fall! 
fall! ” 

“You miserable old hag ! ” exclaimed Lady Elea- 
nore, angrily snatching her hand away; “how dare 
you tell me your abominable lies ! What, pray tell 
me what can befall the lawful lady of Grantly Manor ? 
Yau can not read one phase of my future.” 

“ Only trouble, trouble, my lady,” persisted the 
hag. 

“Hush!” said Lady Grantly—“not another 
word ! Get out of my sight!—leave me in peace till 
your grandson’s return! Is it not enough, that I 
have time and again rewarded you, without your now 
showing your base ingratitude in idle tales to frighten 
me? ” 

“Ah! I see,” whispered the hag in awe-stricken 
tones—not paying the slightest attention to the lady’s 
injunction—“I see an open coffin ; ’tis for thee, my 
lady, and trouble, trouble. God help thee ! ” 

Lady Eleanore, fairly livid with rage, raised her 
hand and struck the old creature a swift blow. 


10 


148 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


“ That for your impudence,” she hissed ; “I hate 
you ! I hate you ! Let me out of this room or I shall 
die from the sight of you ! ” and hurrying from the 
apartment, she paced impatiently up and down the 
long porch, until the sound of wheels approaching 
told her that her messenger had returned. 

She hastened down the steps and stood waiting in 
a patch of white moonlight near the gate. 

The wagon stopped. “ Did you bring him, Doug¬ 
las ? ” she called out anxiously. 

“I am here, madam,” said lawyer Martins, jump¬ 
ing from the wagon and approaching her, hat in 
hand. 

“Come,” she said briefly, leading the way back to 
the house, and through the dingy room into an inner 
one. 

“ Dinna good, he an’ she,” muttered the old crone, 
shaking her withered fist after them; “but I’ll ken 
what ye’re secrets be,” and softly approaching the 
door, she put her ear to the keyhole and listened at¬ 
tentively. 

The lawyer seated himself, at a sign from Lady 
Grantly, and waited patiently for her to make known 
her errand. 

Taking her son’s letter from her pocket she handed 
it silently to him. The lawyer read it attentively by 
the light of the tallow-dip which they had purloined 
from the outer room. 

“ Well, my lady,” he said quietly, refolding it and 
handing it back. 


THE NOCTURNAL VISIT. 


149 


“It must not go on ! ” she exclaimed, passionately. 
“ You muse prevent it! ” 

u I, my lady; how is that possible?” said the 
lawyer, in well feigned surprise ; “ remember, 1 have 
no control over your son's movements. I could not 
prevent this marriage, if I would,” 

“I tell you, you must> and can. It is for your in¬ 
terest. Listen : the day that my son weds Lady Ce¬ 
cilia Brandon, you shall receive two thousand pounds 
for your services in this matter.” 

The lawyer’s eyes glistened—money was his god ; 
but a moment later they resumed their customary 
dullness. 

“No,” he said slowly, “I can not accept your 
offer.” 

“ You utterly refuse ? ” 

“Yes, madam, I utterly refuse.” 

“I will make it four thousand pounds — even 
more ? ” 

“ How can this be done, madam ? Were I to ac¬ 
cept your very advantageous offer, I could only—by 

making certain disclosures-” 

“ Oh, heavens! not that,” gasped the lady. “ Do 
you not know my son well enough, to be aware that 
the instant he discovered Lord Nelson was not his 
father, he would renounce all ? ” 

“ How then, my lady ? ” 

“There are other ways ; I have thought of them. 
You can write to him, that certain investments he has 
made have proved worthless. Kepresent him on the 



150 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN 1 . 

verge of ruin; and I will join my entreaties with 
yours for his immediate return, and his marriage with 
Lady Cecilia.” 

“I could do that,” mused the lawyer. “He has 
made certain investments, which, should they prove 
worthless, would greatly embarrass him. But all this 
is hazardous ; I place myself liable to imprisonment 
upon false statement. No, my lady, I can not ; and 
yet, should I conclude to accept your offer, I must 
insist upon receiving my four thousand pounds the 
day the marriage contract is signed.” 

“Why not the day after the marriage has taken 
place ? ” demanded Lady Grantly. 

“ I have my reasons, my lady ; only on that con¬ 
dition will I consent to assist you in this matter.” 

“ I promise, then.” 

“And if you fail to fulfill, my lady, I shall make 
known everything.” 

“I swear to fulfill to the letter.” 

“I must have time to think. To-morrow, my 
lady, I will see you again. In the meantime, I hope 
to have matured some plan through which we can 
communicate with your son with safety and effect. 
Good night;” and bowing low, the lawyer passed out 
of the room, and out of the house to where the lad 
was waiting to convey him back to Bradleigh. 

Lady Grantly drew her mantle about her and pre¬ 
pared to depart. 

“Here is a sovereign for Douglas,” she said, lay¬ 
ing the money with a clinking sound upon the little 
deal-table in the outer room. 


THE NOCTURNAL VISIT. 


151 


“ Are ye gaen ? ” muttered the old hag, raising her 
head a little from its bent position, and casting a look 
of hatred upon the lady ; “ weel, weel, bad luck at¬ 
tend ye for the fling ye gee me, and rouble, trou¬ 
ble ! ” 

Across the lonely stretch of moor, Lady Grantly 
walked swiftly along, shuddering at the darkness, or 
gazing fearfully about her by the light of the faint 
moon-rays which now and then struggled through the 
clouds. As she drew near the stile—the entrance to 
the lane—a low, meaningless laugh broke suddenly 
upon her ear ; and, for an instant, a man’s white face 
gleamed close beside hers, while a mocking voice 
whispered in her ear : “Lawrence ! Lawrence ! ” 

Half dead with fright, Lady Eleanore quickened 
her footsteps into a run—never pausing for an instant 
till she reached the lodge-gate and had let herself in; 
then sinking upon the ground, she rocked back and. 
forth, sobbing as if her heart would break. “My 
God! ” she moaned, “ it is he! it is he ! ” 


152 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


aunt Hester’s discovery. 


Take care of thyself; for the devil is unchained.” 


ISS HESTER HINKLEY had returned from 



A.V.JL Boston, and Hinkley Park had once more re¬ 
sumed its usual regime of sternness. All surrepti¬ 
tious enjoyment was now a thing of the past; the 
annual visit to the Hub was ended, and so was the 
holiday for the servants - at Hinkley Park. 

Kitty Kaw felt a sense of oppression, as she 
watched the coach, containing her relative, roll slowly 
up the avenue. Miss Hester’s visit had, outwardly, 
not improved her ; for after the long dusty ride she 
was looking grimmer and sourer than ever. 

‘ ‘ How d’ye do, Katherine ? ” she remarked, se¬ 
verely, as she alighted and offered the tips of her 
gloved fingers ; “ I hope you have not been as idle 
during my absence as you appear to be now. Here, 
Jane, take these bundles and convey them directly to 
my room. I want no dilatoriness about it, either.” 

“Did you enjoy yourself, aunt!” asked Kitty, 
meekly. 

u That depends,” replied Miss Hinkley. “ If you 
refer to my having passed the time of my visit in 
frivolous amusement—as my misguided sister Rebec- 


aunt Hester’s discovery. 


153 


ca’s child must—you are mistaken. Strictly attend¬ 
ing to my duty, I can say that I enjoyed myself.” 

“Oh,” said Kitty Kaw— not having the slightest 
idea what Miss Hester’s duty might have consisted of. 

But that lady seemed to possess a proper sense of 
having fulfilled it conscientiously, whatever it might 
have been. So Kitty was fain to be satisfied ; though 
she could not help thinking that, as regards to “friv¬ 
olous amusements,” tastes differed very materially. 

“I only hope she has had as good a time as I 
have had,” she inwardly commented. 

Miss Hester, without further words, bestowed 
upon her niece a look of lofty scorn, and departed for 
her boudoir 

She found Jane upon the threshold, waiting anx¬ 
iously for her appearance—cunning Jane, dying to 
drop the premeditated hint in her mistress’ ear, and 
eagerly expecting the forthcoming of the new lawn. 

‘ Put down my bundles, Jane,” Miss Hester com¬ 
manded, “and tell me, instantly, what you are star¬ 
ing at.” 

“La! mistress,” whispered the girl, with an air 
of excessive mystery, “ sich doings ! ” 

“ What?” inquired that lady, sharply. 

“Sich doings, mistress, as I never see—about the 
young miss.” 

“What do you mean, Jane?” said Miss Hester, 
laying aside her bonnet and facing the girl squarely. 
“I won’t have such actions ; tell me, immediately.” 

“A young man,” gasped Jane, “and Miss Kit¬ 

ty.” 


154 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 

“A young man and Katherine,” said Miss Hester. 
“Be plain, Jane.” 

“And love-making.” 

“ And love-making,” repeated Miss Hester, as if 
noting it down in her memorandum. “ Well ? ” 

“And all sich,” concluded Jane. 

“And all such,” continued Miss Hester. “That 
will do, Jane. Here is the price of the dress I prom- 
sed you. Go, now, and attend to your duties.” 

“And so,” said that lady to herself, as she lei¬ 
surely laid aside her traveling dress and donned the 
inevitable Mack bombazine and shirred cap, “my 
niece, Katherine Kaw, has been amusing herself, 
during my absence, in making love to a young man. 
It is high , time this matter was looked into. I will 
descend at once;” and taking the book of “Daily 
Prayer ” from the shelf, Miss Hester stalked majes¬ 
tically down to the drawing-room. 

Kitty Kaw had fished the neglected netting out 
from under the haircloth sofa, and was working away 
industriously—with a half look of conscious guilt 
upon her face. 

“Katherine Kaw,” said Miss Hester in her se¬ 
verest tones, ‘ ‘ have you conducted yourself in a re¬ 
ligious manner, during my absence ? ” 

“ I don’t know—I hope so,” faltered Kitty. 

“ Have you transgressed from the usual rules, 
Katherine Kaw ? ” 

“Dear me, aunt,” said Kitty, dropping her eye» 
in guilty confusion. 

“I wish to know, Katherine, if either of th®»e 


aunt Hester’s discovery. 155 

strolling, vagabond artists have been in this park 
again ? ” 

Poor Kitty wished the earth would open and swal¬ 
low her up. “What should she do? What could 
she say ? ” All her happiness of the night before had 
tied ; and under Miss Hester’s stern gaze, she felt as 
miserable as even that lady could desire. 

“Yes, aunt,” she said, very slowly. 

“And have you had any communication with 
them ? ” 

“Yes, aunt.” 

“Katherine Kaw,” and Miss Hester’s voice was 
awful, in its deep solemnity; “you do yourself 
credit, as the daughter of my misguided sister, Re¬ 
becca, and Richard Kaw. I am not surprised ; be¬ 
lieve me, when I repeat — I am not surprised.” 

How could Kitty Kaw, with that withering glance 
of contempt cast full upon her, reveal the whole ex¬ 
tent of her misdoings ? Could she confess to this se¬ 
vere autocrat, that she —with the Hinkley blood flow¬ 
ing through her veins—had so far forgotten herself, 
as to set her affections upon anything so low ? At 
that moment she heartily wished that all the Mr. Ma¬ 
sons in the world were naught. 

“Silence,” continued Miss Hester, “is the sure 
evidence of a guilty conscience. I see, Katherine 
Kaw, that you have disgraced me—yes, disgraced 
me ! It shall not occur again, however, as I shall 
take means to keep you within your proper bounds. 
You may go to your room, now, and remain until 
sent for.” 


156 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


Miss Hester having delivered these very proper 
remarks, opened the book of “ Daily Prayer, ” and 
commenced a satisfied perusal. 

Kitty obeyed with alacrity ; her own apartment, 
just then, was far preferable to the frigid atmosphere 
of the drawing-room. 

“ I have committed the unpardonable sin,” quoth 
that young lady to herself, “I wonder what my pun¬ 
ishment will be? Something exceedingly lofty, I 
discern from the cat's attitude. Well, Kitty, my 
child, ‘forewarned is forearmed.’ I won’t submit to 
it! ” she exclaimed, with sudden revulsion of feeling. 
“I love him and I hate her? If he should ask me 
to go away with him, just as mamma did with papa, 
I almost believe I would. Surely, nothing can be 
more intolerable than this life ! ” 

When at the end of an hour Miss Hester laid down 
the book of “ Daily Prayer,” the expression on her 
face was anything but Christian-like, as the influence 
of such holy reading should tend to make it. 

“ I have it,” she said crisply, shutting at the same 
time the clasp to her book with a metallic snap, 
“and I shall execute. I have undertaken to bring 
up Rebecca’s child, and I shall do it.” 

Miss Hester laid her head upon her pillow that 
night with the feeling that she had contrived a very 
cleyer scheme ; that she had made a bold move in 
the field and was sure to win. She purposed immur¬ 
ing her pretty niece in some secluded nunnery until 
she should overcome her plebeian pranks and take on 
the characteristics of a Hinkley. 


aunt Hester’s discovery. 


167 


But alas ! that lady’s carefully laid plans were to 
be scattered like chaff before the wind. She might 
have saved herself the trouble of lying awake and 
chuckling to herself over the picture of poor Kitty 
Kaw’s chagrin at finding herself a prisoner within 
the walls of a gloomy convent. That young lady 
was much too pretty and her heart was much 
too fresh for such a life. Fate had ordered very 
differently. 

Next morning, in obedience to Miss Hester’s sum¬ 
mons, Kitty appeared at the breakfast table, with 
eyes red and swollen from weeping. She had passed 
a bad night—a very bad night; her anger had grad¬ 
ually died out and had given place to a lonely feeling 
which was hard to overcome. But hope revived 
once more. “ He said he would come to-day,” she 
whispered softly to herself, while her great eyes 
filled with a tender light that argued well for the 
absent lover. 

It was a very silent meal, and was scarcely finished 
when a peal at the door-bell and soon after a sum¬ 
mons for Miss Hester, disturbed them. 

Kitty’s heart beat wildly, for she more than half 
suspected whom “the gentleman ” might be. 

A very perceptible frown deepened the lines in 
Miss Hester’s forehead and a look of cold disdain 
came into her face, as her eyes rested upon Mr. 
Mason standing just inside the drawing-room door. 

“ I have no wish to purchase pictures,” said that 
lady in her most frigid tone. “ You may go,” wav¬ 
ing her hand toward the door. 


158 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


“That is not my errand, madam,” said Mr. Mason, 
his haughty face taking on an additional shade of 
haughtiness ; “I came to ask the hand of your niece, 
Kitty Kaw, in marriage. ” 

Miss Hester jerked off her spectacles and wiped 
them fiercely—alfnost as if they were the just cause 
of her wrath ; then adjusting them, she pursed up 
her under lip, raised both hands in mute astonish¬ 
ment, threw back her head, and glared for fully five 
minutes at the intruder. 

“ Are you mad ? ” she ejaculated at last. 

■ “ Hardly,” said Mr. Mason, with an effort restrain¬ 
ing his desire to laugh ; “I am in my right senses, 
madam, and I repeat that I wish to gain your consent 
to your niece’s marriage with me. She has already 
consented to be my wife.” 

“It behooves me,” said Miss Hester, slowly, “to 
overlook your impertinence in behalf of my mis¬ 
guided sister Rebecca’s child. She has been foolish 
enough to so lower herself as her mother did before 
her; but I warn you, sir, not to carry your preposter¬ 
ous insult too far. Remember, that / am a Hinkley, 
and that Katharine Kaw is a Hinkley also. Sir, our 
family can trace back to my sixteenth great grand¬ 
father; and in all that time there has not been a stain 
upon the family escutcheon, until my misguided 
sister Rebecca married Richard Kaw. Do you think, 
then, that /, a Hinkley, will allow a second stain 
upon that escutcheon ? Not that I value that fickle 
girl a straw—it is our family name, sir; our honor.” 
“I,” said Mr. Mason calmly, “can trace back to 


aunt Hester's discovery. 


159 


my eighteenth grandfather. My late father, madam, 
was the twelfth Lord Grantly, of Grantly Manor, in 
Lincolnshire, -England. At his death the title de¬ 
scended to me—his only child. I have the proofs and 
can soon convince you that my story is well authen¬ 
ticated. ” 

“I have heard,” said Miss Hester, not one whit 
disturbed by his astonishing disclosure, “ of enter¬ 
prising barbers suddenly becoming plethoric lords ; 
and I doubt not such is your case. Your whole 
appearance, attitude, looks, stamp you instantly as a 
barber. Sir, your plebeian origin is too plainly 
ingrained in your very nature to allow the success of 
your charming little ruse. I will wish you good 
morning. ” 

Here was a pretty case, indeed—Lord Mason 
Grantly taken for a barber! He, who from infancy 
had heard his high born looks and distinguished bear¬ 
ing commented upon, taken for a barber ! Inwardly 
he was raging ; outwardly he managed to retain his 
usual composure. 

u Madam,” he said, quietly, “I suppose you will 
not disregard the proof of what I have said. Pray 
examine this,” and he drew forth an elegant gold 
watch, stamped with the Grantly seal and crest. 

“ Stolen proof, I dare say,” said the lady, raising 
her eyes loftily to the ceiling. “ Perhaps you may 
have been valet to some lord in your time and have 
decamped with his valuables. I wish I knew the 
noble gentleman, sir, I would have you immediately 
delivered to justice,” 


160 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


“By heaven!” exclaimed Lord Mason, losing 
control of himself, “ if you were a man, madam, you 
should answer to me for these insults. I repeat again, 
I have proof of what I say. My cousin, Ralph Otis, 
will corroborate my story.” 

“ Your cousin, whatVhis-name, is merely an 
accomplice to your perfidious scheme ; and anything 
he could say would not alter my decision in the least. 
You are a barber, sir, and wish to win my niece in the 
hope that she may inherit the Hinkley property, but 
you will find yourself mistaken; she will not inherit 
one cent, no sir, not one cent. Now leave this house, 
instantly, or I shall command the butler to put you 
out; ” and having delivered this harangue, the 
general stood looking very stern and warlike. 

There was but one thing to do ; and in a fine rage 
my Lord Mason Grantly turned on his heel and left. 
His interview with the mistress of Hinkley Park ha^l 
not proved a satisfactory one. 

“By George!” he muttered, wrathfully, as he 
strode down the avenue, “she is a regular old she 
dragon ! How I would enjoy choking her ! What a 
hard time my poor little darling must have of it. 
Well, it shall not last much' longer, as I will write 
home this very day, and before the end of two weeks 
I shall be able to place certain documents in Miss 
Hinkley’s hand which she cannot sneer at. Then, my 
darling, my love, you will be mine, indeed. I shall 
take you away the very hour 1 have proved my 
title.” 


AUNT HESTER S DISCOVERY. 


161 


Your title, my lord—ah, your title is too like 
the things of this world, evanescent. 

The clanging of the outer door and Miss Hester’s 
stately tread coining through the hall, chilled Kitty 
Kaw to the heart. She stood with a face white from 
suspense as the door opened and Miss Hinkley 
entered the long dining-room. 

“Katharine,” she said, with a grim smile, 
“allow me to congratulate you; you have ex¬ 
ceeded my expectations, and even out-‘ Heroded ’ 
my misguided sister Rebecca ; for, while she fell in 
love with an artist, you have cast your affections upon 
a barber.” 

“ A barber ! ” gasped Kitty. 

“Yes,” continued Miss Hester, “ a lying barber ; 
who attempts to pawn himself off as a Lord Some¬ 
body. I penetrated his disguise at once; and 
informed him that the farce was no longer neces- 
sary.” 

“You called him a barber! ” exclaimed Kitty, her 
eyes flashing, “that noble gentleman—a barber ! I 
wonder, yes, I do wonder, aunt Hester Hinkley, that 
he did not slap you in the face,” and Kitty stepped 
forward, as if she more than half intended to execute 
the deed for him. 

Miss Hester calmly put the table between herself 
and her refractory niece. “ And that, my dear,” she 
said, “would have been a foolish act—a very foolish 
act, as it would have necessitated a case of imprison¬ 
ment or a fine, that would have emptied your lover’s 
7 * 


162 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


pocket of the reward of many an enterprising 
shave.” 

“ You ’re mean ! ” shrieked Kitty, now losing all 
control of her temper. “It is all a lie of your own 
fabricating! He is a noble gentleman, and I am 
proud to know he loves me! I return his love from 
my very soul , and I will marry him ! I will ! I will! ! 
I will! ! ! 

“Don't excite yourself,” said Miss Hester, warm¬ 
ing her hands before the fire ; “ I hardly think you 
will have the opportunity, as I informed him in good 
round terms that you were not to inherit Hinkley 
Park.” 

“Just as if he loved me for this old rubbish! ” 
said Kitty Kaw, disdainfully. “You are mistaken, 
when you suppose everyone as sordid as yourself, 
aunt Hester.” 

“We shall see,” replied Miss Hester, grimly. 

“ Yes, we shall see ! ” so thought Kitty, as, in the 
seclusion of her own room, she dashed olf the follow¬ 
ing little note: 

My Own Darling : 

I don’t care what aunt Hester says; I don’t care if you 
arc a barber; I love you, and will never, never, never forget you! 

Your own Kitty. 

This epistle was hid in the oak tree near the edge 
of the lake, and was followed by the reply: 

My Dear Love: 

I shall soon claim you. I am only awaiting certain 
documents from England. 

Your true lover, 

M. S. G, 


TiTE CABLEGRAM. 


lea 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE CABLEGRAM. 

I am constant as the northern star; 

Of whose true, fixed and resting quality 
There is no fellow in the firmament. 

—Shakespeare. 

M R. MASON had just received a telegram from 
England. 

The C. B. investment is turning out badly. Come home at 
once, or all will be lost. Signed, Martins. 

“ Confound it!” exclaimed the young man, “here’s 
a pretty mess ! ” 

This somewhat emphatic soliloquy was broken in 
upon by Mrs. Betsy Snibbs, who, at this moment, 
stuck her head in at the door and announced: 

“A letter for you, sir.” 

“From my mother,” said Mr. Mason to himself. 
“ Perhaps this will help to explain things in general,” 
and he broke the seal and eagerly perused Lady 
Grantly’s craftily written epistle. 

Not a word had my lady dropped concerning Cecilia 
Brandon. She was, by far, too wise for this. She 
urged, strongly, his return ; hinted, ominously, of the 
C. B. investment, and ended by appealing to him to 
save, by every effort, the honor of the old house of 
Grantly. This letter arriving (as my Lady Eleanore 
had, purposely, intended it should,) on the very day 
u 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


164 

of the telegram, accomplished its mission, perfectly, 
by completely blinding Lord Mason Grantly. 

lie sat, for a long time, lost in deep meditation. 

“I must return home,” he said, at last. “It is 
plain that my presence there is of vital importance ; 
and yet, I can not bear to leave Kitty, for however 
short a time. If it were only possible to take her 
with me, without first convincing that old Hecate of 
the authenticity of my title ! but, no ; it can not be. 
I must leave for England at once, look to my affairs 
there, then return and claim my bride, which shall be 
at the earliest possible moment. ” 

Having arrived at this conclusion, Mr. Mason 
went in search of Ralph Otis, to whom he communi¬ 
cated his plan. The artist agreed with him, and pro¬ 
nounced it the wisest course he could possibly pursue. 

In the meanwhile, how fared it with Kitty Kaw ? 
She had not seen her lover since the abrupt upsetting 
of all her plans and hopes, by her cruel relative ; but 
several little notes had reached her in spite of Miss 
Hester’s vigilant eye — notes, in which Mr. Mason 
explained all, and assured her in the most solemn 
manner, of his undying love, and begged her to wait, 
patiently, until proof arrived from England. 

These warm epistles were a source of great com¬ 
fort to Kitty, until, alas, one, most unfortunately, fell 
into the clutches of Miss Hinkley. A scene ensued 
which beggars description. Miss Kaw was, finally, 
as a just punishment, locked fast in her room, and 
regaled, each day, on bread and water. 


THE CABLEGRAM. 


165 


The night succeeding the day upon which Mr. Ma¬ 
son received the telegram, Kitty was seated by the 
open window in her “cell,” as she mentally styled it, 
gazing gloomily at the moon, and wishing, in audible 
tones, “that she possessed a pair of wings, and could 
fly away to parts unknown.” 

Her soliloquy was interrupted by a movement in 
the shrubbery on the lawn, beneath her window, and 
a voice called, softly : 

“Kitty.” 

“I am here,” she whispered, instantly, recogniz¬ 
ing her lover. 

“Can you come down ? ” 

“ I most heartily wish I could,” replied that young 
lady, in indignant tones ; “ but it is impossible. Aunt 
Hester has locked me in this stuffy room ! ” 

“ How dare she do it ? ” exclaimed Mr. Mason. 

“ Oh, she dare do anything—except cut my head 
off,” said Kitty, spitefully; for since Miss Hester’s 
onslaught on her lover, she had lost all delicacy in 
proclaiming her dislike, publicly, to that personage. 
44 1 suppose she intends to keep me in this room until 
I am an old maid, like herself.” 

“Do you love and trust me, Kitty?” asked Mr. 
Mason, somewhat abruptly. 

4 4 Indeed, I do. The idea of aunt Hester calling 
you a barber ! Are you a barber ? ” 

44 Hardly,” laughed Mr. Mason; 44 if I were, 
I should have shaved Miss Hinkley’s head, on the 
spot, for her impudence ; but, my darling, this is no 


166 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


time for jest. I came, to-night, to tell you with my 
own lips, that I must leave you for a time. I find it 
necessary to return to England at once.” 

“Return to England?” faltered Kitty Kaw, her 
heart suddenly growing very heavy, w T hile aunt 
Hester’s prophecy intruded itself with painful obsti¬ 
nacy. “ Was he really going to desert her? ” 

“Yes, only to-day I received a telegram from my 
lawyer, stating that my immediate presence was neces¬ 
sary. God only knows how I dread our separation, 
dearest love, for however short a time. Believe me, 
when I swear to return, at the earliest possible mo¬ 
ment, to claim you for my own. Can you not trust 
me, Kitty ? Will you not wait and remain true until 
my return ? ” 

“ I will,” replied Kitty, her doubts instantly van¬ 
ishing before this earnest declaration, “ I will remain 
true to you. Wherever you go, my heart shall be 
with you.” 

Was it a presentiment of evil, that turned Mr. 
Mason’s face so white, and made him cry out, in anx¬ 
ious, trembling tones, “ Swear it, my darling, swear 
to remain true to me, through time and eternity ; for 
without you, I am lost to all happiness.” 

Strange enough, without a moment’s hesitation, 
the girl lifted her starry eyes toward heaven, and 
folding her white hands, as if in prayer, took the 
solemn oath upon her lips. 

“ I swear,” she said earnestly, “ to love you — to 
remain true to you, forever ! ” 

The moonlight fell upon the fair face, and revealed 


THE CABLEGRAM. 


lr»7 

its childish lineaments, clothed in a resolve as strong 
as death. 

“May God bless you, O my darling ! ” exclaimed 
the young man, brokenly. 

After a fondly-spoken adieu, and a promise on Mr. 
Mason’s part to return within two months, the 
lovers parted. The young man strode away through 
the moonlight, and Kitty Kaw undressed and crept 
into bed with a saddened but hopeful heart. “ Eight 
weeks,” she counted on her fingers, “that is not so 
very long.” 

So thought cunning Jane, as she let herself in at 
a side entrance, near which she had been standing for 
a long time—an interested listener to the lovers’ con¬ 
versation. 

With nimble steps she sped up the staircase to 
Miss Hester’s room—even daring to awaken that per¬ 
sonage from her hallowed slumbers, in order to com¬ 
municate the astonishing news. 

“So, Katherine, your barber has flown away,” 
sneered Miss Hester—as with her own hand she un¬ 
locked the prisoner’s door next morning ; “how very 
sad !—what an interesting interview—under the win¬ 
dow last night!-—what a pity it is the last! You are 
at liberty, now, Katherine—no more danger from 
recreant lovers—you will never behold the barber 
again. ” 

A disdainful silence was all Kitty Kaw vouch¬ 
safed to this speech ; and Miss Hester was fain to 
content herself. 


168 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


“Look after my interests, old boy,” said Mr. Ma¬ 
son, shaking Ralph Otis’ hand heartily, as they stood 
together upon the deck of a Cunard steamer. “ Good- 
by ; I shall soon be back. ” 


TIIE IRATE LORD. 


169 


CHAPTER XX, 


THE IRATE LORD 


“ One sole desire, one passion now remains, 

To keep life’s fever still within the veins. 
Vengeance! dire vengeance on the wretch who cast 
O’er.him that ruinous blast.” 


MOMENT with you, Mr. Martins,” said John 



Silvester—looking m at the lawyer’s office. 
“ Aha ! how goes it ?—the young lord has returned ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied the lawyer, 44 and a devil’s pretty 
mess I shall find myself in, if my lady does not take 
him in hand. Egad ! I’d give half my years to know 
what she will tell him.” 

44 Ha, ha!” laughed Silvester; 44 soon for the 
wedding, now—soon for that, Martins—soon for the 
wedding. ” 

44 Hush !” said the lawyer ; 44 1 hear a step—it is 
his ! Hide yourself in yonder closet—quick ! ” 

Presently the door was flung open and Lord Ma¬ 
son Grantly entered the room—his face dark with 
anger. 

44 How now, Martins,” he said, sternly; 44 how is 
thisHow dared you send me that infernal lie? 
You were well aware that the investments I made had 
not turned out badly.” 

The lawyer gazed sulkily at the intruder, but said 
nothing in reply. 


8 


170 


A FAIR FLEBElAtf. 


“ Come—an answer,” said Lord Mason, hotly. 

‘ 1 Then, my lord, because your mother wished 
it.” 

“ What trick is this! ” exclaimed the young man, 
impatiently—“that my mother’s name should be 
dragged to the front ? I merely wished to know why 
you sent me that infamous lie? Why, sir, I could 
have you imprisoned for false statement! ” 

“I know it, and so I told her, my lord. It is not 
my doings, believe me. She wished you home once 
more, and feared that nothing less than imperative 
business would prevail upon your coming.” 

“ A fine state of business,” growled Lord Mason. 
“ It will not be well to cajole me in this way again, 
Martins. I’ll have done with you now,” and taking 
his hat he prepared to depart. 

“ Hold,” he said, turning suddenly; “now, that 
I am here, I may as well oversee certain alterations I 
intend having made at the manor. Engage workmen 
and have them sent up at once. The north rooms 
must be overhauled. ” 

“The north rooms, my lord?” said the lawyer, 

slyly- 

“ Yes, they are to be entirely refitted, as my mar¬ 
riage will soon take place. If it were not that I can 
profit in this way by my return, I would not so easily 
forgive the infernal trick you have played upon me, 
Martins. ” 

Saying this, Lord Mason left the room. 

John Silvester emerged from the closet, his «yes 


the IRATE LORI). 171 

shining with excitement. “Did yon heed him ? ” he 
whispered. “ Soon to be married—ha, ha, ha !” 

“Yes, I heeded,” said the lawyer; “but, John 
Silvester, do you not hesitate to wreak your vengeance 
on such an noble-hearted fellow as my lord ? ” 

“ What do I care,” he replied, sternly, “ as long 
as I can strike her ? I would bow a thousand such as 
he, in the very dust, that I might have revenge. 

“You ask me to spare—/, who have watched 
Lawrence Reynolds—year after year--raving, dying, 
in the den she placed him ; heard him calling on her 
to have mercy ! mercy ! because he loved her. Ah, 
often I think of that night—long ago—when he came 
home to find her gone, and to see again the look of 
awful agony on his face, as he read her cruel letter 
and learned that she had deserted him forever ; yes, 
and taking the boy with her ! You should have seen 
it, Samuel Martins—you should have seen that look. 
It would have drawn tears of blood from a stone ! 
’Twas then I first dreamed of revenge. 

“When the wind howled around that lonely spot, 
and all night long he paced up and down, up and 
down that cursed cell—wringing his hands and shriek¬ 
ing at every blast of the tempest. ’Twas then I 
thought of revenge. When he knelt again and begged 
her to pity him and not to turn coldly away. 4 My 
darling ! my darling ! ’ he would cry, ‘ I love you ! I 
am working day and night for you and the boy. I 
will work harder yet, that not a wish of yours may 
go ungratified; only, don’t be cruel, darling ! don’t 


X72 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


be cruel! Give me a kind word once in a while ; 
speak to me, my wife, speak to me, for my heart is 
breaking! Oh,’he would sob, ‘that I could give her 
the jewels ; but I can not—I can not! Eleanore, El- 
eanore, don’t turn away from me—don’t look that 
way, my darling ! ’ Oh, God ! ’t was then I thought 
of revenge. 

“ ‘ I am so tired,’ he would often say, fancying that 
he had but just come home ; ‘ it is past two now and 
Eleanore not yet returned. Oh, I am so tired ! My 
head aches from the figures—I am dizzy. If my 
darling was only here to bathe it, and say a kind word 
to me—but no, she is at the ball. Let her enjoy her¬ 
self. I wonder if I can get that money for her to¬ 
morrow ? I must to work, not to bed. She wishes 
money, and I—I must get it.’ 

“Ah, Samuel Martins, do you think when I heard 
all this year after year, and saw Lawrence Reynolds 
dying, I did not think of revenge ? Do you think 
when I smoothed that coffin pillow and laid that poor, 
pinched, sorrow-stricken face upon it, I did not 
remember when he was a proud and noble-hearted 
youth with life bright before him, and how this 
woman’s cursed hand struck him down. Ah, did I 
not think of revenge ? Revenge ! I will have it! 
Revenge ! the word is sweet to me. Not to save the 
life of the whole universe would I stay my hand. 
Ah, Eleanore Ashley, you fiend in woman’s form ! I 
will hunt you down, and deal with you as you have 
dealt by the dead. Oh God, I only ask one boon at 
Thy hands—give me revenge /” 


THE IRATE LORD. 


173 


“ Heaven defend us ! ” muttered the lawyer; “ he 
is mad. Nothing will stay his relentless hand. I fear 
him, myself.” 

“ The wedding, Martins,” chuckled Silvester, 
suddenlyrelapsing into his former mood, “ha, ha! 
1 must leave you now, but don’t forget, don’t forget,” 
and he sidled from the room, leaving the lawyer to 
meditate upon his strange words. 

In the meantime my Lord Mason had reached the 
Manor. Lady Grantly watched him drive swiftly up 
the avenue, and prepared to descend and encounter 
the worst. She had not met him yet, as he had 
arrived at a late hour the night before and had risen 
early that morning and driven to Bradleigh. 

But my lord was not to appear very formidable ; 
although angry at the ruse, he was not irredeemably 
so. Upon mature deliberation the matter had pre¬ 
sented itself to him in a more favorable light. His 
return to England, he reasoned, would enable him to 
collect the necessary proofs to convince the obdurate 
Miss Hester, and also to overlook with his own eyes 
the refitting of the north rooms for his bride. Again, 
should his mother prove obstinate, personal persua¬ 
sion was so much better than written—on the whole 
it was well that he had returned; so my lady en¬ 
countered a rather good-natured face as she hesita¬ 
tingly entered the drawing-room. 

“My son! my son !” she exclaimed, throwing her 
arms about his neck and kissing him, “oh, I am so 
delighted ! ” 

“Are you, indeed, mother?” said Lord Mason, 


1?4 A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 

sarcastically; “but pray, before further remarks of 
the kind, explain this exceedingly interesting ruse 
that has been practised to bring me home.” 

“My son, I was so lonely, and—and that vulgar 
girl.” 

“ Of whom are you speaking ? ” asked Lord Mason, 
frigidly. 

“ Of that creature who has dared to win your 
heart. My son, my son, how could you so far forget 
yourself and—the Lady Cecilia ?” 

“Mother,” said Lord Mason, sternly, “at once 
and for all let us drop this foolish matter. Lady 
Cecilia Brandon is nothing to me. Whatever you 
may have considered her, was merely a fabrication of 
your brain alone. Furthermore, I must request you, 
nay, I command you, never again to speak of my 
promised bride in the manner you have just alluded 
to her. I will not bear it! She is pure, lovely and 
true, and while I possess the power to defend her, 
no one shall dare to speak ill of her in my presence.” 

“But, Mason, you surely cannot intend to marry 
her? ” 

“ Silence ! ” thundered Lord Grantly. “ I marry 
her? Yes, gladly, quickly ! She is an angel, and 
far too good for rue. My only wonder is that she 
can stoop to me.” 

Lady Eleanore wrung her hands silently. 

“It is useless to attempt to dissuade me, mother, 
I swear to you that I will never, never marry any 
other woman. So let this end all difficulty between 
us,” and with these words Lord Mason left the room. 


THE IRATE LORD. 


175 


That very day he indited a letter to Miss Kitty 
Kaw, from which we give extracts: 

My Darling: 

I am safely in old England once more, but am anxiously 
counting the days that must elapse before I return to America. 
The very thought of my darling in the clutches of the dragon— 
I suppose you comprehend my meaning—is enough to lend me 
wings of love. 

By-the-bye, I am having certain rooms at the Manor refitted 
for the reception of my little wife, and in them (is the prayer of 
her lover) may she spend many, many happy hours. 

This epistle, which contained, by-the-way, several 
more pages closely written upon, was enclosed with a 
short note directed to u Ralph Otis, Esq.” 

Dear Old Boy. 

I arrived safely and found the investment business all 
a hoax to lure me back to England. I was furious at first but 
have cooled down considerably, and am now at work ordering 
the north rooms refitted for my bride, for whom I shall return as 
soon as possible. 

I wish you would do me the favor to rummage through the 
writing desk, which I inadvertently left in my rooms at the 
Snibbs’ mansion, and send me the bundle of papers signed “S. G.” 
which you will find there. 

I enclose a letter to Kitty. Move heaven and earth to deliver 
it into her hands; and thereby, eternally oblige, M. G. 


176 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

A SINGULAR DREAM. 

“ I will solve this mystery.” 

I N the topmost story of the Hinkley mansion, at 
the farthest end of a long corridor, stood an old- 
fashioned desk. A desk full of pigeon-holes and odd 
looking drawers ; a desk with a case above it stuffed 
with dusty books that from time to time had been 
removed from the library and stowed away here as 
rubbish 

Kitty Kaw had often looked upon this cumbrous 
piece of furniture, and felt a desire growing within 
her to explore its numerous pigeon-holes and drawers ; 
but she had always been restrained by a curious feel¬ 
ing of awe. Now, she had had a strange dream — a 
dream which increased her former desire ten-fold. 
On the night previous, she had beheld her seventeen 
defunct grandfathers marching solemnly through the 
long corridor. When this supernatural procession drew 
near the old desk, each grandfather paused and gazed 
long and earnestly at it, then with a melancholy shake 
of his ghostly head, moved on. Three times this per¬ 
formance was repeated under Kitty’s wondering eyes ; 
then she awoke with a sudden start and heaved a thank¬ 
ful little sigh, to find herself safe in her snug bed. 
The next morning, this singular dream was recalled 


A SINGULAR DREAM. 


*77 


with all its vividness, and she at once and for all M cer- 
mined to search the old desk and find out, if possible, 
what it was that so intensely interested her dead and 
gone ancestors ; so when Miss Hester's coach, contain 
ing that estimable lady, who, in this comfortable fash¬ 
ion, always took her morning airing, rolled down the 
avenue, Kitty sped up the long flights of stairs, to 
make her discovery. 

She searched long and eagerly, but nothing of im¬ 
portance, aside from quantities of curious old books 
and newspapers, could she discover. 

“ I declare,” she exclaimed, in disgust, “ those old 
creatures took a great deal of pains, just to peer at 
this rubbish. I can not see what they saw to look so 
wonderfully wise over, and to shake their antiquated 
heads in such a distracted manner.” 

“I know what I'll do,” a new idea suddenly strik¬ 
ing her ; u I'll go down to the very end of the corri¬ 
dor, and march slowly up, just as they did, and per¬ 
haps I may by chance espy the wonderful treasure.” 

Kitty did so, in the most solemn manner ; not that 
she expected to discover anything, but because it 
proved amusing to imitate the stately walk and gest¬ 
ures of the imaginary procession ; and then it helped 
to pass away time, which, by the way, hung some¬ 
what heavily, nowadays, on this young lady’s hands. 

She repeated the process several times, gazing 
with the profoundest interest at the old desk. Sud¬ 
denly her eye caught sight of what appeared to be a 
brass nail projecting from the upper part of the case. 

“ It was that nail,” said Kitty, contemplating it 


178 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


with rapture, “ that beautiful brass nail ! Well, I do 
not intend having my —my slumbers disturbed by such 
an apparition again ; so I shall remove it. Too bad 
to disappoint my grandfathers in contemplating such 
a beautiful sight, but I really can not allow it to 
remain. I fear they will be forced to admire the cob¬ 
webs on the wall, or something equally charming, in 
lieu of this.” 

Procuring a chair, Kitty mounted it, and began 
pulling energetically at the nail. It was fast, but 
by pressing her thumb against it, it seemed to sink 
into the wood. Having made this discovery, Kitty 
pushed with all her strength. There was a snapping 
sound, like the click of a rusty lock, and behold, a 
a drawer flew open in her very face. v 

“Mercy,” she exclaimed, starting back in great 
astonishment, “who could have thought of this? a 
secret drawer ! I am certainly on the eve of a great 
discovery ! ” 

The only object that met her eye was a paper, 
neatly folded and tied with red tape ; securing this, 
she pushed the drawer back and ran away to her own 
room. Once there, she hesitated. Should she open 
the paper ? Would it be just right ? She gazed at it 
for several moments; then a vision of the specters’ 
curious faces decided her, and she untied the red tape 
and spread the document out before her. 

“The last will and testament of Madison Hinkley, 
Esq.” Kitty read aloud : 

“‘I, Madison Hinkley, son of Gregory Hinkley, 
being of sound mind, do hereby make the following 


A ; IXGULAR DREAM. 


179 


disposition of my property : I bequeath to my elder 
daughter, Hester Hinkley, the sum of seventy thous¬ 
and, and one-half of Hinkley Park ; to my younger 
daughter, Rebecca, I bequeath, also, the sum of sev¬ 
enty thousand, and the remaining half of Hinkley 
Park, and I pray that she may find it in her heart to 
forgive my inhuman and unjust treatment of her. 
My soul I bequeath to God ; my body, to the dust. 
Amen.’ Signed and witnessed by * John Leslie ’ and 
4 Hester Hinkley.’ ” 

Kitty’s eyes opened to their very widest extent, 
and she let the paper fall to the floor. 

“ Oh, poor mamma ! ” she exclaimed, “ my poor, 
poor mamma! had you only known of this, you 
would not have died broken-hearted ! Oh, that wicked, 
shameless aunt Hester Hinkley ! Won’t I show her 
this ! Oh, my poor, defrauded mamma! That de¬ 
ceitful woman — won’t I ? Ah, Miss Hester Hinkley, 
you’ll see ! It will prove a sorrowful day for you, that 
I came to Hinkley Park ; and to think it was your much 
esteemed grandfathers who let the cat out of the bag ! 
How you do adore them ! I fear the adoration is all on 
your side. Oh, poor mamma! ” 

This incoherent tirade having exhausted itself, 
Kitty wiped her eyes, and putting the document away 
for safe keeping, went out for a walk in the park. 

“I am sure I have good cause to adhere to my 
grandfathers,” she said with a laugh. “ They have 
served me a good turn, and I am very sorry that I 
ever called them dried-up. I certainly never shall 
again.” 


12 


180 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


A low, peculiar whistle suddenly broke in upon 
Kitty’s reverie, and looking about her beheld Ralph 
Otis approaching. 

“Oh, Mr. Otis,” she exclaimed, joyfully, “how 
glad I am ! Have you—have you heard from him ? ” 

“Here is a letter for you,” said the artist, hand¬ 
ing her Lord Mason’s epistle. “Good morning,” 
and before she had time to restrain him, he was gone. 

Opening the little white-winged messenger, Kitty 
read and reread her lover’s letter, her face flushing 
with delight. 

“How happy I am!” she murmured. “I do 
wonder if any other girl was ever so happy ? 

“ It won’t be worth while to quarrel with aunt 
Hester,” she said presently, for her heart had sudden¬ 
ly softened toward every living thing, “ I am going 
away so soon. Let her keep Hinkley Park, if she 
likes, I shall not show her the will—that is, without 
she provokes me to it. ’” 


THE DISCOVERED WILL. 


181 


CHAPTER XXn 


THE DISCOVERED WILL. 


0, ’tis too true! 

How smart a lash that speech doth give my couscieuce! 


—Shakespeare. 


HE morning following the receipt of Lord Grant- 



ly’s letter, Ralph Otis entered his cousin’s lately 
occupied room, and began a search for the desired pa¬ 


pers. 


He found Mrs. Betsy Snibbs there before him— 
busily employed in dusting and putting things to 
right. 

44 La ! Mr. Otis,” she exclaimed, 44 but it do look 
lonesome here. As I was a tellin’ Polly Quackenbos 
some time ago, the likes of Mr. Mason hain’t found 
every day, and that she’d better set her cap for him. 
He, he, he ! Polly’d make a good housekeeper.” 

Mr. Otis replied, absently, 44 that he presumed 
she would.” 

44 Do you think he’ll come back ? ” continued Mrs. 
Betsy ; 44 for, if I thought it all likely, I wouldn’t shet 
up this chamber. Jest think on it, Mr. Otis, he was 
the first one what slept in this room since Sairy Ann 
Comfort died in that very bed. The # y do say bad 
luck allers follows them that sleep first in a bed where 
some one has died. But la ! I don’t believe in signs, 
do you ? ” 


182 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


Scarcely heeding this interesting conversation, 
the artist busily sorted the papers in the writing desk. 
Presently something slid from between the leaves of 
a letter which he held in his hand, and dropped upon 
the floor. 

Mrs. Betsy, always on the alert, stepped forward 
and picked it up. As she examined it a look of 
amazement came into her face. 

“Land to gracious !” she gasped—“ if this hain’t a 
pictur of Kitty Raw’s pa—the man what married Re¬ 
becca Hinkley ! Where did you git it ? Land, what 
a start it gin me!’’ 

“What do you mean?” said Ralph Otis, taking a 
small ambrotype from her hand ; “ this is certainly not 
Richard Kaw, but Richard Grandale, the missing heir 
of Castle Vale. Mason showed it to me soon after 
his arrival here. He intended sending it to his law¬ 
yer ; but, in his careless fashion, has thrown it into 
the desk and forgotten it. ” 

“Richard Grandtale ! ” sniffed Mrs. Betsy—mis¬ 
taking the name—“I tell you, it’s Kitty Raw’s pa. 
Hain’t I seen him with my own eyes hundreds of 
times? ” 

“It can not be,” said Mr. Otis—“you are mis¬ 
taken.” 

Mrs. Betsy deigned no reply to this ; but left the 
room, and presently returned, accompanied by Polly 
Quackenbos. 

“Polly,” she said, taking up the ambrotype and 
handing it to her friend, “ who is that ? ” 



I'HE DISCOVERED WILL. 


183 


“ Richard Kaw ! ” exclaimed the spinster, invol¬ 
untarily. “ Where did you get it? ” 

Ralph Otis was puzzled. “Can this be possi¬ 
ble ? ” he muttered to himself. 

“ Do you think,” he asked, turning to Mrs. Betsy, 
‘ 4 that Miss Kaw would remember her father ? ” 

“La, yes,” replied that lady; “she must have 
been, from all I’ve heerd, quite a slip of a girl when 
he died.” 

The artist determined to find out for himself; so, 
putting on his straw hat, he set out immediately for 
Hinkley Park. 

The day had considerably lengthened before an 
opportunity of seeing Kitty presented itself. At 
last, however, he caught a glimpse of her white dress, 
and heard her sweet voice humming a love song, as 
she came, sauntering along through the park. 

“ Miss Kaw ! ” he exclaimed, stepping quickly for¬ 
ward. 

“Mr. Otis!” returned Kitty, reaching out both 
hands ; “I am so glad ! ” 

“We may be interrupted at any moment,” said 
the young man, hurriedly ; “ so I will do my errand 
at once. Do you recognize this? ” and he handed the 
ambrotype to Kitty. 

A low cry of delight broke from the little lady’s 
lips. “ Papa—my dear papa! ” she exclaimed. “ Oh, 
where did you get this, Mr. Otis ? ” 

But Mr. Otis had no time to reply ; for from be- 


184 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


hind a tree, close by, stepped Miss Hester’s majestic 
form. 

4 A pretty situation, indeed ! ” she remarked, rub¬ 
bing her spectacles very hard, and glaring at Mr. 
Otis through them ; 44 1 thought I ordered you off 
these premises once, sir.” 

44 Oh, do hush, aunt Hester!” pleaded Kitty; 
44 he only came to show me this. ” 

Miss Hester’s curiosity, for once, must have got¬ 
ten the mastery of her, for she took the ambrotype 
from her niece’s hand and gazed at it. 44 Richard 
Kaw ! ” she said with a start. 

44 Then you, also, recognize him, madam?” 

44 Yes, sir; I recognize the lineaments of my mis¬ 
guided sister Rebecca’s plebeian husband ; and from 
the coarseness of your appearance, and by your de¬ 
testable arrogance, I should stamp you as a relative 
of his.” 

44 1 most devoutly wish I were,.madam,” replied 
Mr. Otis ; 44 but such is not the case.” 

44 At least,” said Miss Hester, 44 you are typical of 
the class he belonged to. 1 will give you just five 
minutes in which to leave this park ; if you are not 
out of sight by that time my servant shall be called 
upon to assist you. ” 

44 Return me the miniature, if you please, madam, 
and I will comply at once with your delicately-worded 
and most lady-like request. ” 

Miss Hester flung the ambrotype from her as if it 
had been a viper. 



THE DISCOVERED WILL. 


185 


Mr. Otis calmly picked it up, and raising his hat 
to Miss Kitty, who stood speechless from rage, walked 
leisurely away. 

“Go to the house,” commanded Miss Hester, 
turning to her niece and pointing majestically with a 
very long forefinger toward Hinkley Hall. 

Kitty Kaw could have crushed Miss Hester under 
her very feet, had it been possible, such was her right¬ 
eous indignation. As it was, she stood perfectly still, 
striving to collect appropriate words in which to ex¬ 
press herself. 

“Go to the house,” repeated Miss Hester, in still 
more majestic tones. 

She did not seem to hear. 

Miss Hester calmly turned about, and grasping 
one of Kitty’s pearly little ears between her thumb 
and forefinger, essayed to urge her obdurate relative 

on. 

Kitty drew resolutely back—Miss Hester drew 
resolutely forward. 

The young lady was in imminent danger of losing 
an ear. 

“How dare you !” she gasped. 

“How dare I ? ” said Miss Hester, pulling a trifle 
harder, “ really that is a curious question.” 

Now Kitty decidedly objected to this sort of treat¬ 
ment ; and so, instead of adopting the biblical doc¬ 
trine and meekly offering the other, ear for Miss 
Hester to pull, she determined to give that spinster 
(vulgarly expressing it) “ as good as she sent.” There¬ 
fore, when, a second time, Miss Hester drew reso- 
8 * 


186 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


lutely forward, Kitty suddenly changed her tactics 
and followed suit. Coining alongside her relative, 
she—ah, that I should be forced to record so naughty 
an act—she raised one little, white hand and slapped 
that lady full in the face. 

Had a raging volcano suddenly sprung up in the 
park, Miss Hester could not have been more surprised. 
Half stunned, she let go her niece’s ear and stepped 
back. Kitty improved this opportunity by retiring 
to a safe distance. 

“You vile creature!” exclaimed Miss Hester, 
hoarsely; “you low-born thing! I shall subdue you 
yet.” 

“I am not afraid of it,” replied Kitty, sarcasti¬ 
cally.” “I am not so easy to subdue as you think 
for, aunt Hester Hinkley. If I am a plebeian Kaw, 
I possess Hinkley blood enough to retaliate when an 
insult is offered me. I will return to the house, now, 
of my own accord ; and to-morrow I shall convince 
you that our little game is over, and that /hold the 
winning card. If you had preserved but common 
civility toward me, madam, I should have spared you 
this; but now, my poor defrauded mother’s wrongs 
shall be righted. You surely have not forgotten 
the will of Madison Hinkley—his last will, I refer to, 
made upon his death-bed ? ” 

Having delivered this parting shot, Kitty Kaw 
walked majestically in the direction of the house, 
leaving Miss Hester to digest her wrath as best she 
might. 


THE DISCOVERED WILL. 


187 


“ Can it be possible,” said that lady—a look of 
terror dawning up her face : —“can it be possible that 
she has discovered the will ? But no, it can not be. 
No one knows of the drawer save myself; still I will 
look to-night and be satisfied.” 


188 


A FATE PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER XXIIL 


THE GHOST. 


And what art thou ? I know, but dare not speak ! 


— Shelley . 


HE clock in the hall had just struck twelve that 



-L night, when Kitty Kaw heard a step along the 
corridor, outside her chamber door. She was very 
wide awake ; and springing from her bed, opened 
the door slightly and peeped out. 

She beheld a sight. Miss Hester, arrayed in a 
long night-robe, the black shirred cap replaced by a 
white one, that fitted very tightly to her head, carrying 
a lamp in one hand, was tiptoeing along in the most 
ludicrous fashion. 

Kitty Kaw’s mind instantly reverted to the subject 
of the will, and a mischievous thought darted through 
her brain. 

“I ’ll play up the ghost,” she said, with a smoth¬ 
ered laugh. Hastily wrapping a sheet around her 
and shaking her yellow hair all about her face, she 
followed in the spinster’s wake. 

Up one flight of stairs and then another, strode 
Miss Hester, cautiously, closely shadowed by the fig¬ 
ure in white. At last she reached the corridor, at 
the end of which stood the old desk. 

Here she set her lamp upon the floor, and mount- 


THE GHOST. 


189 


ing a chair, pressed the brass nail. The drawer flew 
open ; but alas ! it was empty. 

Miss Hester stood gazing, horror-stricken, when 
suddenly a groan sounded through the corridor—a 
long, low groan that echoed and died away in the dis¬ 
tance. It was followed by another and another. 

Miss Hester got down from the chair and gazed 
about her in dismay. 

At the farther end of the long corridor she could 
descry a figure in white. Pale, yellow hair floated 
about it, and its upturned face gleamed like marble 
in the dusky light. 

Slowly it came toward her, uttering groan after 
groan, and wringing its white hands in the most dis¬ 
tracted manner. 

Miss Hester trembled terribly ; she had recognized 
the face of her dead and gone sister. 

“ Rebecca,” she tried to gasp. 

A hollow groan was her only answer. 

“ Rebecca ! ” she gasped again. 

One white hand was lifted slowly toward heaven, 
while the other pointed accusingly to the empty 
drawer. 

Nearer and nearer it came, and Miss Hester, who 
had always ridiculed ghostly visitants, drew back in 
abject terror. Surely her defrauded sister had risen 
from the grave to haunt her. 

One moment longer and that marble hand would 
grasp her. 

With a smothered shriek of despair she eluded it 
and rushed down the corridor. 


1^0 A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 

An audible titter broke from the ghost as it 
watched the vanishing form ; and picking up the dis¬ 
carded lamp, Kitty Kaw made her way back to her 
own room. 

“Oh dear me 1” she exclaimed, laughing hysteri¬ 
cally, “how she did run! Afraid of a ghost! How 
very, very funny ! Kitty, my child, you have cer¬ 
tainly, for once, conquered the cat.” 


COUNTESS OF CASTLE YALE. 


191 


CHAPTER XXIY. 

COUNTESS OF CASTLE YALE. 

Fudge, sir, I say fudge ! 

—Goldsmith. 

M ISS HESTER’S fright had unnerved her. Next 
morning she did not appear at the breakfast 
table, nor did she for three succeeding days cross the 
threshold of her “ sanctum sanctorum.” 

Kitty Kaw was vastly troubled in her mind. She 
had no earthly desire to injure her relative in this 
“ base, underhanded manner ; ” and as a sort of peace¬ 
offering to her uneasy conscience, she resolved to 
make amends, by postponing all further allusions to 
the missing will. 

The fourth morning Miss Hester sat in her usual 
place at the breakfast table, looking a little pale, but 
very calm and collected. 

“I hope you find yourself better, aunt,” said 
Kitty, in concilatory tones. 

Miss Hester bestowed upon her niece a look of 
quiet disdain. 

The meal passed off in silence, and Kitty arose 
from the table, very glad to escape from such a frigid 
atmosphere. 

Miss Hester took up the book of “ Daily Prayer,” 
which lay beside her plate, and repaired to the draw¬ 
ing-room. 


192 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


She had scarcely seated herself, however, upon 
one of the stiff hair-cloth sofas, when a gentleman 
was announced on particular business. 

“Show him in,” commanded Miss Hester, in her 
shortest tone ; while in her heart she registered a 
secret vow, to be revenged, should it prove another 
troublesome, strolling artist. 

A very tall, spare man, dressed in a most precise 
fashion and carrying a huge, gold-headed cane between 
the thumb and first finger of his right hand, obeyed 
this summons. 

“Ahem! Madam,” he remarked, solemnly, “I 
am lawyer Blackmar, of Blackmar &> Hickey, 
attorneys-at-law ” 

Miss Hester looked surprised. 

“Do I address Miss Hester Hinkley, of Hinkley 
Park?” 

“You do,” replied the spinster. “Be so good, 
sir, as to state your business.” 

“Exactly, madam; I see you are straight to the 
point; I myself, am a man of few words, and will at 
once proceed to business. I dare say you have not 
forgotten it was 1 who wrote you in behalf of 
Katherine Kaw, your niece, at the event of her 
mother’s death ? ” 

Miss Hester bowed stiffly. 

• “It seems a strange coincidence,” continued the 
lawyer, “ that I should be called upon a second time 
to appear in her behalf; but through Mr. Otis—” 

“ Enough ! ” exclaimed Miss Hester, sharply. “ I 
recognize that name. I will not be inveigled into 


COUNTESS OF CASTLE YALE. 


193 


any trap laid by such a beggarly miscreant. The 
unprincipled villain is trying his utmost to gain the 
affections of my niece.” 

“You are mistaken, madam,” said the lawyer, 
firmly, “ and must listen to me. I came to inquire 
about Richard Kaw—your sister’s husband.” 

“ Ah,” sniffed Miss Hester, “Richard Kaw ! well 
what of him ? ” 

Mr. Blackmar drew from his waistcoat pocket, 
note-book and pencil. 

“ Have you any knowledge of the said Richard 
Kaw’s antecedents % ” he inquired. 

“No sir,” snapped Miss Hester, “I have not; 
neither do I wish for any.” 

“That is not to the point, madam; I ask, have 
you any knowledge, at all, of his life before he mar¬ 
ried your sister \ ” 

“ And I repeat, sir, that I have not; and that I 
neither know nor care anything about Richard Kaw. 
The disgrace he brought upon our family name is 
enough for me. I shall answer no more questions 
concerning him.” 

“No more are required, madam,” replied Mr. 
Blackmar, calmly ; “only allow me to inform you 
that Richard Kaw is not likely to prove as obscure as 
you think. Several days ago, I was waited upon by an 
artist, named Otis, who placed in my hands a likeness 
of the missing Grandale heir, and who informed me 
that said likeness had been universally identified as 
Richard Kaw, and also that you, yourself, had 
recognized it.” 


9 


194 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


“ And what of that ? ” said Miss Hester, sharply. 

“If such be the case, and the two proven identi¬ 
cal, your niece, Miss Kaw, or the Countess of Castle 
Vale, as she will then be, is heir to a fine old estate 
and one million in gold.” 

“This is folly—utter folly! ” cried Miss Hester. 

“That remains to be proven, madam. The execu¬ 
tors of the will are on their way to America, and all 
will soon be made clear. You will be subpoenaed as 
an important witness in this case, Miss Hinkley. 
Good morning and gathering up his effects, law¬ 
yer Blackmar, with pompous steps, left the apart¬ 
ment. 

Miss Hester sat bolt upright on the hair-cloth sofa, 
staring after his retreating figure—a very picture of 
amazement. 


GOD PITY ME. 


195 


CHAPTER XXY. 

“ GOD PITY ME!” 

“My day la closed ! The gloom of night is come ! 

A hopeless darkness settles o’er my fate.” 

L ORD MASON GRANTLY was intensely sur¬ 
prised at the discovery Ralph Otis had made. 
“Could this be possible!” he questioned again 
and again. “How very, very strange!” But idle 
surmises were not to be indulged in, and he lost no 
time in conferring with Martins as to the best steps 
to be immediately taken in order to prove (for a cer¬ 
tainty) Richard Kaw the missing Richard Grandale. 

Entirely ignorant of this new turn of affairs, 
Lady Eleanore Grantly was, each day, growing more 
and more anxious. In vain did she thrust poor Lady 
Cecilia in her son’s way; the cold manner in which 
he now treated this little lady, was slowly but surely 
opening her eyes to the true state of affairs, and at 
last she refused, altogether, to come to Grantly 
Manor. 

“ Ah ! ” sneered my lady, as she watched the men 
at work upon the north tower, “you will have your 
trouble for your pains, my lord ; those gorgeous 
rooms will never be occupied by your expected bride ! 
I know—I feel it.” 

But the work went on, in spite of her dismal 

,13 


196 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


auguries, and at last the rooms were completed. Lord 
Mason surveyed them with great satisfaction. They 
were three in number, and opened into one another 
by arches hung with pale blue silk. Upon the floors 
were laid crimson velvet carpets, studded with En¬ 
glish daisies. The windows were draped with curtains 
of heavy silk, of a pale blue tint, lined with white, 
and looped with crimson cords and tassels. The fur¬ 
niture was of carved ebony, upholstered in blue satin 
studded with English daisies. On the walls (which 
were also in crimson and blue,) hung beautiful paint¬ 
ings, in costly gold frames; bronze statuettes stood 
upon numerous brackets; tables of buhl and porphyry 
were scattered about. Everywhere was elegance com¬ 
bined with retined taste; even a connoisseur could 
have found no fault with these charmingly arranged 
apartments. Kitty Raw’s eyes, could she have seen 
them, would have danced with delight. 

But as my lord gazed at them, a heavy hand 
seemed laid upon his heart, and a baleful voice of 
warning seemed to whisper in his ear, that a shadow 
of evil lurked close behind him. 

With a sudden impulse he crossed the length of 
the rooms, and gazed from a window out upon the 
lawn beneath him. The heavy shadows of evening 
were fast gathering, but through the faint light he 
distinguished a woman’s form, wrapped in a gray 
mantle, stealing, stealthily, down the avenue, in the 
direction of the north gates. At any other time, 
Lord Mason would have scarcely given this object a 
second thought; but now he looked more closely, and 


GOD Firr ME. 


197 


recognized, in the somewhat peculiar gait, his mother, 
Lady Grantly. 

He gave a start of surprise. “ What can take her 
out at this time of night, dressed in such a fashion ! ” 
he exclaimed to himself. 

A feeling of intense curiosity, mingled with alarm 
for Lady Eleanore’s reason, took possession of him. 
Quickly descending, he threw a heavy cloak about 
him, and followed her. 

By the time he had reached the north gate, she 
had disappeared ; but looking down the highway, he 
discovered her gray figure moving, cautiously, in the 
shadow of some trees. 

Presently, she turned from the highway into a * 
lane, and from thence, out into the open moor. On, 
on they went, until, at last, a solitary light gleamed 
from among a cluster of dark pines. 

“ Mother McDonald’s ! ” muttered Lord Mason to 
himself; “great heavens ! my mother has gone mad, 
to come to this uncanny place.” 

He was about to speak and make himself known 
to her, when a singular move arrested him. 

Stepping into the shadow of the trees, Lady 
Grantly drew, from under her mantle, a bundle, 
which she undid, and shook out a scarlet silk opera 
cloak. This done, she slipped the somber wrap from 
her shoulders, disclosing herself arrayed in a glisten¬ 
ing white silk, and wrapped the scarlet cloak about 
her ; then, as if to complete this very singular attire, 
she threw over her head a scarf of rare old lace. 

Lord Mason was dumb, with astonishment. What 


198 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


could she possibly mean ? He watched her glide 
down the path which led to the lonely house, and 
silently followed. 

Lady Grantly raised the latch to the rickety door, 
and entered. 

The old crone sat before the fire, mumbling to her¬ 
self; but the lad was nowhere to be seen. “ Go in,” she 
snarled, raising her head and pointing with a long, 
lean finger, toward the inner door ; “go in, my lady, 
and meet your fate.” 

Lady Grantly paused and wrung her hands wildly. 

“ I can not! I can not! ” she sobbed. “ God help 
me ! Oh, God help me ! ” 

“God help thee,” sneered the old creature ; “ this is 
sair time to ken a stranger. Ask the deevil; he maun 
help thee, Eleanore Ashley.” 

With a mighty effort for self-control, Lady Grantly 
threw open the door and entered the inner room. 

A moment later, a heavy hand was laid on the old 
crone's shoulder, and Lord Mason, who had come in, 
softly, asked, in a stern voice : 

“ What does this mean ? Where is my mother ? ” 

A frightful leer crossed the hag's face, as she 
turned and recognized the young man; but she 
replied in a tone of abject fawning : 

“Ah, my babby, is it you? and ye’ve coom to 
see yer auld nurse, who held ye in her arms, when ye 
were but a wee lad — ” 

“Hush, mother McDonald ! I’ve no time for idle 
tales,” said Lord Grantly. “ Tell me, instantly, 
what brought my mother here ? ” 


GOD PITY ME. 


199 


“And would ye ken?” cried the old creature, 
her eyes flashing with a baleful light; u secrets! 
secrets ! She kens’t is lonely here ; and who should 
mother McDonald, the old nurse tell ? but I mind the 
fling she gie me. Coom, my laddie, coom.” 

Taking a rusty iron key from her pocket, she 
inserted it in the lock of a door at the left. It turned 
with a grating sound, and a moment later a dark pass¬ 
age was disclosed. Beckoning the young man to fol¬ 
low her, she groped her way down this passage. At 
last, they paused before what seemed a blank wall. 
Lord Mason uttered an exclamation of impatience ; 
but the old creature checked him. 

“Hist, ye ! hist, ye! ” she whispered, all the time 
moving one hand about. “ I ken it; ah ! ” and with 
a dextrous movement, she suddenly slid back a panel 
in the wall. 

A faint light greeted their eyes, and showed a 
small closet. Mother McDonald pushed the young 
man in ahead of her, and approaching the window 
through which the light was emitted, drew the curtain 
softly to one side. “Look,” she muttered—pointing 
with her long skinny finger. 

Lord Mason beheld the room his mother had en¬ 
tered ; and then he stood half petrified, gazing upon 
the scene before him. 

Lady Grantly’s scarlet cloak had fallen from her 
shoulders and lay in a blood-red heap upon the floor, 
while she cowed in abject fear before the stern gaze 
of John Silvester. 

“ Ye did well to wear that,” he said, at last, in a 


200 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


deep, sepulchral tone—pointing to the scarlet cloak. 
“Ye did well to wear that, for it is red, like your 
hands—stained in blood ! ” 

“Oh, no, no ! ” cried Lady Eleanore—“not that! 
This is the very dress I wore and the cloak he wrapped 
about me the night he gave me into your care and 
bade you protect me. You loved me then. For the 
sake of the old time, have mercy now. Oh, John Sil¬ 
vester, have mercy ! ” 

“ Yes, my lady,” replied the man, “ you say true. 
I loved you then, because my friend and master loved 
you, and you were soon to be his wife. I would 
have died for you then; but now, Eleanore Ashley, 
now, I hate you ! hate you ! hate you ! and, by the 
blood of the man you slew, I have vowed to be re¬ 
venged.” 

“John Silvester ! John Silvester ! ” cried the lady 
in agonized tones, “ would not Lawrence Reynolds 
have wished me to give to his child all that I have ? 
Am I not making reparation to him ? ” 

“Reparation!” sneered the man; “it comes too 
late. Lawrence Reynolds’ gray hair and worn, pinched 
face are, as you well know, under the sod. You drove 
him mad years ago—mad ! I say—mad ! Oh, would 
to God that you could have seen him, pacing his nar¬ 
row cell day in and night out—weeks, months and 
years!—pressing his face to the iron bars,, and calling 
on you to have 1 mercy, mercy ! ’ You ask me to have 
mercy upon you. You might as soon ask yonder 
dumb walls. If you were to pray from now till eter¬ 
nity 1 would not listen to one word.” 


GOD PITY ME. 


201 


“ God pity me ! ” sobbed the unhappy woman. 

“Hark ye!” continued the man; “I had my 
plans—I and Martins. If your son had wedded the 
Lady Cecilia Brandon all would have gone well. The 
day you would have been all smiles I should have 
come to dash your hopes to the ground ; I should 
have come to proclaim to all the world how you have 
palmed off your shameless lies for years and years, 
and held up Lawrence Reynolds’ child—your son— 
as the lawful heir of Grantly Manor.” 

Lord Mason seemed turning to stone ; he had 
not the power to move a muscle. 

“If not for me,” gasped Lady Eieanore, “ spare 
my son. Lord Nelson Grantly loved the child. It 
was his wish that he should heir Grantly Manor. He 
bade me keep the secret. Oh, do not bring disgrace 
upon my boy’s head ! ” 

“I wish,” replied the man, “you had a thousand 
sons, that I might sting you a thousand times. I 
would not spare one of them—no, not one ! ” 

“ Then spare Lawrence Reynolds’ son.” 

John Silvester drew back and his face softened for 
an instant; then it regained its hardened look, and 
he said: “He knows not even his hither’s name. 
How have you taught him to revere his memory? 
Ah, he would hate him now! The long favored heir 
of Grantly Manor could ill brook to be called a poor 
man’s son. No—to-morrow, woman, the world shall 
know all; you shall leave the grand home over yon¬ 
der to wander as beggars. Do you hear me ?— beg¬ 
gars. You sold yourself for gold; but you must 


202 


A FAIlt PLEBEIAN. 

learn that it can take wings to itself and fly away. 
Ha, ha, ha! How will the world take it when it 
hears that it has been paying court all these years to 
Lord Nelson Grantly’s mistress ? ” 

At this instant a door was flung violently open, 
and Lord Mason, crimson with anger, strode into the 
room. 

A shriek of despair burst from Lady Grantly’s 
lips as she beheld him. 

“ What is this you have been telling my mother ? ” 
he demanded ; “ answer me quickly ; and if you have 
lied, may God have mercy upon your miserable 
soul.” 

“I have not lied,” returned the man, calmly ; “ev¬ 
ery word I have spoken is true. You have no more 
right at Grantly Manor than I have. You are not 
the lawful son of Lord Nelson Grantly, and I can 
prove what I say. Here are the papers—take them 
and examine for yourself. ” 

Lord Mason took them and drew near the table. 
With nervous haste he unfolded each one and glanced 
over the contents. When he had finished he was 
white to the very lips, which trembled as he spoke. 

“You are right,” he said, quietly. “I have no 
more claim on Grantly Manor than you. I will re¬ 
nounce all to-morrow. Come, mother.” 

Lady Grantly did not seem to hear him, but stood 
staring vacantly before her. 

The expression on John Silvester’s face softened 
as he gazed upon this noble young man. “You are 


GOD PITY ME. 


203 


so like Lawrence,” lie said, in a pained voice, “ that 
I can not wrong you. Keep the papers.” 

An exclamation of joy broke from Lady Grantly’s 
lips at these words. ‘‘ Give the papers to me, my son, 
give them to me ! ” she cried eagerly. 

Lord Mason drew back. “ Do you think,” he said 
firmly, “ that / would stoop to keep what is not right¬ 
fully my own ? No—a thousand times, no! Grantly 
Manor shall be restored to its lawful heir—Ralph Otis, 
without delay. Had I known of this earlier, not one 
hour should it have remained in my possession. To¬ 
morrow, I repeat, my mother and I will leave it for¬ 
ever.” 

“My son, my son,” whispered the lady, “there 
is still one chance left before the world knows this— 
Marry the Lady Cecilia.” 

A look of proud scorn came into the young man’s 
face. “You shame me, mother,” he cried; “you 
shame me to know that I have owned you all these 
years. Leave me ! ” and he threw out his hand as if 
to wave her from him. 

Lady Eleanore gazed at him for one instant; then 
with a cry of utter despair, she tottered and fell prone 
upon the cold stone floor. 

Her son raised her quickly in his arms, but as 
he did so the blood oozed from her lips and trickled 
slowly down the white silk dress. 

They laid her gently upon a couch in the outer 
room, and tried by every means to restore her, while 
Douglas was despatched for a physician. At last she 


204 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN, 


opened her eyes, and fixing them full upon her son, 
said faintly : “ Lawrence, forgive. I—I—” the 

blood choked her, and after a few frightful gasps and 
starts she lay dead before them. 

“A coffin for ye, my lady,” muttered the old 
crone, bending over her; ”’t is come, aye, soon.” 



AUNT HINKLEY’S DISCOMFIT. 


205 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

AUNT HINKLEY’S DISCOMFIT. 

“Behold ! I have a weapon.” 

I T is useless to describe in detail the investigations 
that followed Ralph Otis’ discovery ; suffice to 
say, they proved satisfactory, and Richard Kaw was 
proven beyond a doubt to be the lost Grandale heir. 

Kitty Kaw awoke one morning to find herself sud¬ 
denly transformed into a person of importance—pos¬ 
sessed of vast wealth. She could scarcely believe in 
this good fortune, but expected every moment to see 
itpotter and vanish like the castles in the fairy tale. 

Miss Hester Hinkley was inwardly raging, but 
outwardly calm. She declared “she considered the 
whole transaction a fraud, and that it was no more 
than could be expected of her misguided sister Re¬ 
becca’s husband.” 

In vain they tried to argue with her. She turned 
a deaf ear and treated all who came to Hinkley Park 
in a most insulting manner. 

The conduct of her affectionate relative (although 
it was no more than she could have expected) greatly 
exasperated Kitty Kaw. Day after day, to be treated 
with such cool insolence, had gradually quieted her 
conscience, which bad proven uneasy ever since the 
ghost personation. Now she was determined to be 


206 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


revenged. A suddenly formed idea of arraying her¬ 
self in habiliments becoming her rank and then going 
down to tantalize aunt Hester, had a spice of fun in 
it she could not resist. While on a visit to the attic 
one day, when Jane was putting things to rights, she 
had caught a peep into an old chest full of cast off 
garments belonging to the dead and gone Hinkleys. 

“ That chest contains old duds enough to deck out 
forty countesses,” quoth Kitty, “ and I shall avail 
myself of some of them, now that 1 really am a 
countess. Ahem ! ” 

Away she ran to the attic, where she soon found 
what suited her ; then returning to her room, she care¬ 
fully locked the door and began an elaborate toilet. 

At the end of an hour she was arrayed, if not like 
a countess of the period in which she flourished, in a 
fashion that was most becoming, and which reminded 
one of some beautiful old picture. Her costume 
consisted of a crimson satin petticoat, to be sure a 
little soiled, but still gorgeous, and over it a black 
velvet robe that trained for a yard or more behind 
her. A low-cut bodice and short sleeves showed her 
white neck and arms to wonderful advantage. Her 
shapely feet were encased in silk clocks and white 
satin sandals. About one arm she had fastened a 
bracelet of pearls which had belonged to “ poor 
mamma”—as the one relic saved from her far off 
palmy days. 

Thus arrayed, Kitty Kaw surveyed herself in the 
mirror. 

“I look very well,” she commented, “ only a 


AUNT HINKLEY 7 S DISCOMFIT. 207 

countess should never wear her hair in long strings 
down her back. I must manage some how ; ” and 
snatching up a comb, she proceeded to arrange her 
lovely golden tresses a la pompadour , and fasten them 
in a Sappho knot low in her neck. This fashion, 
which certainly gave her a more imposing appear¬ 
ance, seemed to satisfy her, for she turned away with 
a nod of approval, and picking up a large feather fan 
which lay on the bed, went slowly down to the draw¬ 
ing-room. 

At the foot of the grand staircase she encountered 
John, the old butler, who gazed at her in amaze¬ 
ment. 

“ John,” she commanded in stately tones, “take 
this card to your mistress and say to her that a count¬ 
ess waits upon her in the drawing-room.” 

Old John, with an amused smile, bowed low and 
departed to do her bidding. 

Certainly Miss Hester must have forgotten the 
newly-acquired title of her niece or she would not 
have stayed to don her best bombazine and satin 
shirred cap before descending to the drawing-room. 
Indeed, had Miss Hester once suspected the trick 
that was being played upon her she would not have 
descended at all. 

Although of a skeptical turn of mind, that lady 
was for once disarmed. She saw nothing fraudulent 
in the neatly written satin card ; but deeming that 
some distinguished guest had suddenly arrived from 
—she scarcely knew where—she took great pains 
Avith her toilet, and when she descended, John, ae- 


20S 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


cording to orders, threw open the drawing-room 
doors and announced, in a pompous tone, 44 My lady.” 

When Miss Hester’s eyes fell upon the countess, 
who had arisen at her entrance, and now stood with 
her chin elevated in the air, swaying her feather fan 
in a most stately manner, her rage was intense. 

44 What a fool!” she muttered to herself, and 
would have turned instantly back only she had an in¬ 
nate idea that such a proceeding would but heighten 
the young lady’s enjoyment. 

44 Madam,” said Kitty, in an affected tone, “the 
Countess of Castle Yale greets you.” 

Miss Hester took a chair and drew out her net¬ 
ting. 

The 44 countess” began to pace majestically up 
and down the room. 

Miss Hester grew exasperated. 44 Sit down, 
Katherine Kaw,” she commanded. 

Never by look or gesture did Kitty show that she 
heard her, but pausing before the glass she proceeded 
to arrange her train and admire herself in the most 
absurd fashion. 

Miss Hester took off her spectacles and rubbed 
them ominously. She coughed and began : 

44 1 never, in all my life, beheld such plebeian airs. 
They are exactly like your father’s. The idea of 
Richard Kaw being proven a patrician, is utterly ridic¬ 
ulous ! What has been done is false — utterly false ! 
I warn you, Katherine Kaw, I will bear it no longer. 
I shall have you secluded in a nunnery, until you at 
least gain common sense.” 


AUNT HINKLEY’S DISCOMFIT. 


209 


“Indeed,” said Kitty, blazing with sudden wrath, 
“I shall not give you that opportunity, as I sail for 
England the first of next month.” 

“I suppose,” said Miss Hester, grimly and with 
mock courtesy, “ that the Countess of Castle Yale is 
aware that she has not the right to leave the roof of 
her guardian, until she has reached her majority. 
Katherine, I can not allow you to go. As my mis¬ 
guided sister Rebecca’s child, I shall endeavor to do 
my duty by you, and bring }ou up as becomes a 
Hinkley. If, by some strange and inexplicable man¬ 
ner, they have made out Richard Kaw (which I do not 
believe) Richard Grandale, and you the heiress of a 
vast estate in England, at the end of three years you 
will be far better able to enjoy it than now.” 

Kitty Kaw, in her simplicity, believed all this, and 
the idea of dwelling under the same roof with her 
detested relative, for three long years, was excessively 
repugnant. Was she not expecting, every day, her 
lover, who had promised to release her? What 
if aunt Hester should find it out, and confine her in 
that horrible dark closet in the cellar? She was 
capable of it. The very thought struck a chill of 
horror to her heart. 

Miss Hester continued her taunts in the most cold¬ 
blooded manner. 

At last, Kitty could bear it no longer. “ I should 
think, aunt Hester,” she said, sharply, “that you 
would not even dare to speak poor mamma’s name! 
you, who have defrauded her all these years ! Per¬ 
haps you are not aware that I hold the missing will 
9 * 


210 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


which you so diligently searched for one night. The 
ghost you were so very much afraid of w r as merely 
myself, wrapped in a sheet. I supposed, of course, 
that you would penetrate the deception. ” 

Miss Hester turned frightfully pale. “ What do 
you mean ? ” she gasped. 

“ Just what I have said,” replied Kitty. u I have 
the missing will. I came by it "through a curious 
dream,” and she related this dream, word for word. 
“Half of Hinkley Park is rightfully mine, as you 
well know. How dared you treat me as you have? ” 

Miss Hester made no reply. A baffled look had 
come into her face. 

“ Grandpa Hinkley did not disinherit poor mam¬ 
ma, as you have claimed, aunt Hester Hinkley. It 
was you who defrauded her of her just rights ! It 
was you who let her die of a broken heart, when 
one word might have saved her; but you would not 
speak it. I wonder that the judgment of Heaven has 
not followed you. I was taken, out of charity, you 
pleaded. How have I been treated ? You have ill- 
used me, in every way you dared. I might have 
loved you, but you have taught me to hate you. 
You, yourself \ are to blame for all this.” 

Kitty Kaw paused for breath, and turning, saw 
that she was alone. For the second time Miss Hester 
had fled from her. 

An empty room is a poor companion in an argu¬ 
ment, so Kitty was fain to desist, and seating herself 
in the most comfortable chair (which was still far from 
being comfortable), she gradually gave space for 


AUNT IIINKLEY’S DISCOMFIT. 


211 


thoughts. Like the most of young girls, these thoughts 
were of her lover, who was each day becoming dearer 
to her lonely little heart. In fancy, she pictured their 
glad meeting. How would he receive the wonderful 
news she had in store for him ? or had he already 
learned it from Ralph Otis? She remembered how 
surprised she had been to learn that he was really a 
live lord, and was master of a grand old place across 
the water. It seemed exactly like a chapter out of 
an exciting novel; and now that she had turned out 
a great lady, was it not wonderful ? So absorbed did 
she become in these pleasant reflections, that sh« 
failed to notice the entrance of the old butler. 

“A letter for the countess,” he said, with a quitt 
look of humor on his usually grave face. 

Kitty’s eyes shone with joy as they rested upon 
a foreign letter, superscribed in her lover’s hand. 

Left alone, she hastily broke the seal; but as sh* 
read, a low moan broke from her lips, and, slipping 
from the chair to her knees, she buried her head in 
the cushion, and burst into bitter tears. 


H 


212 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


MASON’S FAREWELL TO RALPH. 


Hide not thy tears ; weep boldly, and be proud 
To give the flowing virtue manly way : 

’T is nature’s mark, to know an honest heart by. 
Shame on those breasts of stone that can not melt, 
In soft adoption of another’s sorrow. 


— Hill. 


RILE Kitty Kaw is sobbing in this heart- 



V V broken fashion, in the great, lonely drawing¬ 
room at Hinkley Park, Ralph Otis is pacing up and 
down his little chamber, at Mrs. Snibbs’. In one 
hand he holds an open letter, and there is a deeply 
troubled look upon his face. 

Presently, two great tears roll slowly down his 
manly cheeks, and he says, half audibly: “Poor, 
poor Mason ! would to Heaven he had been spared 


this ! ” 


Strange words, one would say, for a man who has 
suddenly found himself raised from humble circum¬ 
stances to affluence—who, within a few days, has be¬ 
come the lord and heir of a vast estate ; but it is 
through the downfall of another, and Ralph Otis 1 
noble heart is touched to the quick. 

After a few more rapid turns up and down the 


mason’s FAREWELL TO RALPH. 


213 


apartment, he reseats himself, and again unfolds his 
letter. It runs: 

My Dear Cousin: 

It is an ill wind that blows nobody any good; and the dis- 
covery I have recently made, I thank God, will benefit you. 

I know you will be surprised to learn that I am not Lord 
Nelson Grantly’s son, as you have always supposed me to be; that 
I am not the lawful heir of Grantly Manor; that it belongs to } r ou 
—every foot of it, dear old bo} r . God knows I would not have kept 
it from 3 r ou, all these } r ears, had I known. It was m3 r mother’s 
fault. She loved me too well; yet, I know 3 r ou will forgive her, 
when 3 r ou learn that she is dead—yes, dead from the shock of the 
secret being discovered. Immediately after she is buried, I shall 
go away. A beggar has no right to remain here. In some far-off 
land I hope to spend the rest of my days, and there forget I ever 
dreamed of what was not rightfully mine. 

My — my promised bride — old fellow, I have written to her, 
and told her all. She is young and will soon forget me. You must 
comfort her. I am glad to learn that her father has been proven 
Richard Grandale. Beautiful Castle Yale will now be hers. Ah, 
it is ill-fitting that she should mate with a beggar. 

Ralph, I have just one favor to ask of you: If—if in time to 
come you should ever win her for your wife, as it is right and just 
you should, do not give her the crimson and blue rooms that I 
fitted up for her; some others will do just as well, and I—I could 
not bear that she should enter them another’s bride. 

The deed and important papers Martins holds for you. He 
will explain all, in a letter he has written for your return to 
England. I can not. 

Now, my dear old boy, good by. I may never look upon 
your face again, but my blessing shall alwa) r s be with you and 
yours. With great love, I am, yours faithfully, 

Mason Reynolds. 

The new Lord Grantly’s head sank upon the table 
near him, and great choking sobs shook his stalwart 


214 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


frame. “Poor, poor boy,” he said, brokenly, “ how 
very hard to bear ! Oh, why should this awful trial 
have come upon him ! But it shall not be. I will 
return to England immediately. He shall not give 
up what has been his all these years. I will not ac¬ 
cept the sacrifice. It is all a mistake. 

“Yes, I will return to England,” he repeated. 
“ There shall be no delay. I will start to-morrow; 
but before I go, I must endeavor to see Mason’s prom¬ 
ised bride, and gain some word of comfort from her 
lips to carry to him. 

“ Perhaps I may meet her in the park. Once 
more I will defy the dragon ;” and snatching up his 
hat, Ralph Otis left the house. 

He took the by-path through woods which were 
thickly strewn with the fast-dying October leaves, 
and came at last to Mermaid Lake. Unfastening his 
boat, which was moored near by, he sprang into it 
and rowed swiftly over the water in the direction of 
Hinklev Park. 

As he drew near the opposite shore, to his intense 
satisfaction he recognized a little figure, wrapped in 
a white shawl, sitting motionless at the foot of the 
great beech tree. 

He softly fastened his boat, and came and stood 
beside her. She had not heard him, and with pain 
he noted the look of mute sorrow upon her face. 

“Miss Grandale,” he said, in a low tone. 

Kitty turned quickly. “Ah, it is you,” she said, 
sadly; “ have you more to tell me ! ” 

“You know all?” he asked. 


Mason’s FAREWELL TO RALPH. 215 

“ Yes, I know all,” she replied, quietly. “Why 
should he have gone away. I did not say so. I 
have now enough for both. He does not love me.” 

“Not love you,” replied Ralph Otis, earnestly. 
“Ah, you little know Mason’s heart. He loves you 
better than he does his life.” 

“ Then why should he leave me?’’asked Kitty, 
sharply. 

“Because he deems himself poor and disgraced. 
He could not wed the heiress of Castle Vale.” 

“I hate being an heiress!” cried Kitty, with a 
heart-broken little sob. “I do not care for Castle 
Vale. Oh, if I could only tell him that it makes no 
difference what I am, and that I—I love him just the 
same and can not be happy without him ! ” 

“ I will tell him,” said the artist. “I will return 
immediately to England, and he shall not go away. 
He shall retain all his possessions. I am used to pov¬ 
erty. Grantly Manor has no attractions for me.” 

“Oh, no,” replied Kitty, softly, “not that; it 
belongs to you and you must have it. You are by 
far too good.” 

“ And who would not be good—aye, more than 
good—to save you one moment’s pain,” said the artist, 
passionately. 

Kitty gazed at him in surprise. Perhaps the love 
he bore her revealed itself for a moment ; and she 
dimly conceived that this grand, unselfish heart was 
sacrificing its greatest treasure that another might 
find happiness. 

“ You are more than good,” said Kitty; “ you are 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


216 


brave and noble. When you see Mason, tell him 
that I honor him for what he has done ; and that, 
though he were twice a beggar, I should love him 
still.” 

With a little sigh, she reached out her white hand 
to the artist. “ May God speed the good ship that 
bears you across the water,” she said, earnestly. 

Without one backward look, Ralph Otis turned 
and was gone, 


217 


MY BELOVED. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

“my beloved.” 

“By my faith ! I am well rid of her.” 

S EVERAL weeks had dragged themselves slowly 
by, and Kitty Kaw—or the heiress of Castle 
Vale, as I may now call her — was growing very 
pale and thin from anxiety on her lover’s account. 
She seemed suddenly to have been transformed 
into another being. She no longer sang gay little 
snatches of song—no longer cared to roam about the 
park. She had even lost all interest in standing cut 
against Miss Hester. 

And strange to say, Miss Hester, on her part, had 
ceased to tantalize her niece, but kept out of her way 
as much as possible ; or when they did meet, pre¬ 
served a silence which, under the existing circum¬ 
stances, was at least discreet. 

The truth was, Miss Hester feared the conse¬ 
quences of a second outburst from her fiery young 
relative. The knowledge that she possessed the miss¬ 
ing will, and might at any moment make public the 
fraud that all these years she had practiced, was 
enough to hold in bounds even her shrewish tongue. 

But she need not have feared ; for Kitty had not 
once thought of the missing will, since that memora¬ 
ble day in the drawing-room. There it lay, neglected 
10 


218 


a Fair plebeian. 


in a little box on her dressing-table; and one day 
when she was looking idly through her treasures, 
and found it gone, she hardly noted it. 

When she again broached the subject of her de¬ 
parture for England, Miss Hester offered no objec¬ 
tions ; and Kitty, with a more hopeful heart, made 
preparations to return with her newly-appointed 
guardian. 

“I shall see him in England, and then all will be 
explained,” she said joyfully to herself; “but before 
I go, I wish so much to receive the letter Mr. Otis 
promised me.” 

She was not doomed to disappointment. One aft¬ 
ernoon, as she sat reading before the grate in the 
drawing-room, a servant entered with a letter. She 
broke the seal eagerly and read: 

T« the Countess of Castle Yale: 

Dear Lady —I have sad news to tell you. Lord Mason is 
fan*. He left several days before my arrival in England, and I 
•an find no trace of him. God knows the sorrow I feel In dia- 
•losing this bitter fact to you; and I can only say, in consolation, 
that I shall leave no stone unturned to find him, and induce him 
U return once more to his home. Hope on, then, though the 
•louds seem dark. I know and feel that he will return. 

Yours sincerely, 

Ralph Otis. 

As Kitty finished this letter, she realized how 
much hope she had fostered in her heart. It was all 
gone now. With a weary air she put aside her book 
and sought her own room. Throwing herself upon 
her bed she lay for a long time half stunned. 


MY BELOVED. 


219 


Poor young thing ! hers was a nature containing 
strong forces. She hated or loved with equal fervor ; 
and in her loneliness she had given all the wealth of 
her fresh young heart to this man, who was now a 
dreary exile in a far distant land. 

She thought of him, weary and alone, struggling 
under the great burden of sorrow that had fallen to 
his lot. “ My beloved,” she murmured, “ I have not 
forgotten the vow I made you. My heart shall be 
always with you—in sickness, in sorrow, and afar.” 

Two weeks later she sailed for England, bidding 
Miss Hester a long farewell 

That lady gave a sigh of relief as she watched her 
depart. “The will is safe.” she muttered to herself; 
“ but how very near she came to ruining me. I am 
well rid of her. ” 


220 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


THE NORTH ROOMS. 


View each well known scene : 

Think what is now, and what hath been. 


—Scott. 


IME alters all things ; and the three years that 



J- have passed swiftly by, have brought their 
changes to our heroine. Although the Kitty Kaw of 
other days has not entirely flown, the Countess of 
Castle Vale has become a woman well fitted to her 
noble station. 

To say that she is beautiful, but poorly expresses 
my idea—she is superb. This bright morning you 
shall find her arrayed in a purple velvet riding-habit 
—her golden curls caught in a silken net of the same 
hue, and on her head a Gainsborough hat, trimmed 
with long-drooping ostrich plumes. She is putting 
the last finishing touches to her toilet, before the great 
mirror in her elegantly furnished dressing-room, when 
her maid enters and announces : 

“Lord Grantly, my lady.” 

“ Very well, Lisette ; tell him that I will be down 
presently—and stay ; order John to saddle Black 
Bess for me.” 

A few minutes later Kitty descends the grand 
staircase, her long velvet habit trailing after her, and 
enters the drawing-room. 


THE NORTH ROOMS. 


221 


At one of the large windows stands the artist— 
grown a trifle older, but with the same frank eyes and 
lovely smile. 

“Ah, my Lady Kate,” he says, turning and ad¬ 
dressing her with the ease of an old acquaintance ; 
“you are looking wonderfully well this morning. 
Am I too late for our ride ? ” 

“Not quite,” replies Kitty, smiling. 

“Sir Donald and Lady Cecilia are to accompany 
us,” continues Lord Grantly, “ and I propose that we 
ride to the ruined castle first, and from thence to 
Grantly Manor, where we shall partake of lunch. 
My mother is anxious to see you, and I am only too 
eager to find in this opportunity a favorable chance to 
begin (with your consent) that long-promised por¬ 
trait. ” 

Kitty nods her assent to these proposals ; and the 
horses being announced, the young couple mount 
and ride away. 

For two years Ralph Otis has enjoyed in full the 
title of Lord Grantly. Upon his return to England 
he searched long and earnestly for.his cousin Mason, 
but in vain ; no trace of him could be found ; so at 
the end of the year he yielded to the importunities of 
his friends and took up his residence at Grantly 
Manor. To say that the life of ease which he now 
leads is not preferable to the old life, would be un¬ 
true. Wealth holds fascinations which it is not in 
poor, weak human nature to resist. But Ralph Otis 
possesses a noble mind—one in which justice has built 
herself a temple. lie still deeply regrets his cousin’s 


222 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


disappearance, and should Mason Reynolds return he 
would cheerfully insist, were it possible, upon abdi¬ 
cating in his favor. 

As the young couple dashed along at a lively gal¬ 
lop, many heads are thrust out of cottage windows, 
and many comments are dropped predicting wedding- 
bells before Christmas. 

After an hour’s hard riding they arrive at 
Brandon Park, where they are joined by Lady Cecilia 
Brandon, who.has consoled herself with a new lover, 
one who cares more for money-bags than for a pretty 
face, and who, having been ignominiously refused by 
Countess Kitty, has hastened to bestow his lacerated 
affections upon this little lady. They then ride di¬ 
rectly to the ruined castle, through which they wander 
for a while, and finally set out for Grantly Manor. 
Here they are warmly welcomed by Mrs. Otis, Lord 
Grantly’s mother, and partake of lunch, after which 
Lady Cecilia and her cavalier ride homeward, and 
Kitty remains to sit for the promised picture. 

Mrs. Otis is suffering from a severe headache, and 
after a short time excuses herself, saying : “ She 

presumes the young people can enjoy themselves 
without her,” and retires to her own apartment. 
Lord Ralph makes hasty preparations for the sitting, 
but before canvas and easel are arranged to his entire 
satisfaction he is obliged to leave the studio to attend 
to his lawyer’s call, and Kitty is left alone. 

Within the last year she has been often at Grantly 
Manor, and is in the habit of wandering about at her 
own free will. This afternoon some strange fancy 


r ' 


THE NORTH ROOMS. 


223 


leads her to ascend the grand staircase. Idly she 
saunters down one long corridor and then another, 
until she comes to a massive door. Without pausing 
to think she turns the knob ami enters. 

She finds herself in a lofty room, out of which 
two smaller rooms open by arches. The floor is cov¬ 
ered with a crimson velvet carpet ; at the windows 
hang curtains of pale blue silk ; beautiful furniture 
and costly ornaments are scattered about. Suddenly 
she turns pale to the very lips—a thought has shot 
athwart her brain : u These are the north rooms— 
the rooms she once expected to occupy as a bride.” 
With eyes filled with hot tears she gazed about her— 
at the exquisite pictures on the walls, the bronze stat¬ 
uettes and costly bric-a-brac. A porphyry table attracts 
her attention ; she approaches it, and espies upon a 
marble hand a tin} r billet addressed u To my wife, 
Kitty.” 

With the feeling that one touches the garments of 
the dead, she breaks the seal and reads : 

My Precious Little Wife: 

I have prepared these rooms with loving 
hands, that your reception to Grantly Manor—the home of my 
ancestors—may be a pleasant one. M} r earnest prayer, darling, is, 
that here you may find happiness awaiting you. 

Your loving husband, 

Mason Grantly. 

Oh ! how bitterly she has been disappointed. She 
presses the letter to her lips, and with a heart-broken 
sob hurries away. 


224 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


She finds Ralph awaiting her in the drawing-room. 
His face wears a deeply troubled look. 

•‘I—I have bad news for you,” he says, with 
trembling lips. u Can you bear it ? ” 

“Tell me all,” she replies, quietly. 

“ Martins has just received a letter from John 
Silvester saying that my cousin Mason is dead.” 

He sprang forward and caught her in his arms, 
else she would have fallen to the floor. 


IN SICKNESS, IN SORROW. 


225 


CHAPTER XXX. 


IN SICKNESS, IN SORROW. 


“ I have loved thee well and long.’ ’ 


HE dead are soon forgotten. Time obliterates 



-L the passionate sorrow we feel as we gaze into 
the open grave ; and like the tender grass that springs 
up to clothe afresh the spot of disturbed earth, so 
new thoughts and feelings spring up to fill the void 
in our hearts. 

Now that Mason Reynolds was dead, Lord Ralph 
Grantly determined to ask Kitty to be his wife. 

One night, when the soft moonlight silvered the 
white walls of beautiful Castle Yale, he told her his 
story. They stood together upon the stone balcony 
that overlooked the little lake within the grounds. 

“I have loved you long and well,” he said, ear¬ 
nestly. “ Will you be my wife? ” 

She shook her head sorrowfully. 

“ Do not, oh, do not say no ! ” he pleaded. “ I — 
I can not live without you. ” 

“I must,” she replied in a pained voice. 

“Buthe is dead, now,” urged Ralph, “and I know 
that he would wish it. He once told me that I should 
win you. Say yes, darling ! I will do all that love 
can do to make you happy. ” 

Sorrow had changed Kitty. She looked into those 


226 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


great, honest eyes that were gazing down upon her 
so tenderly, so entreatingly, and wavered. In spite of 
her grandeur, life was very lonely at Castle Yale, in 
the company of a cold, calculating guardian and his 
frivolous wife. Now that Mason was dead, the world 
seemed very barren and cold. Should she not take 
shelter in this great, noble heart ? Why not say yes, 
and make him happy ? 

Half hesitatingly, she stretched out one white 
hand. 

He caught it in his own, and covered it with pas¬ 
sionate kisses. 

At this act there was a perceptible rustle in the 
shrubbery beneath the balcony. A man stole quickly 
away in the deepest shadows of the trees. “My 
God ! ” he cried, “this seems more than I can bear ; 
but it is Ralph, and he shall have her.” 

The betrothal of the heiress of Castle Vale to 
Lord Ralph Grantly soon became the talk of the 
whole country-side. Great preparations to celebrate 
the nuptials were already being made. 

As Kitty watched these preparations, her heart 
sank within her. A haunting voice seemed whisper¬ 
ing in her ear: “I will be true to you. My heart 
shall be with you — in sickness, in sorrow, and afar.” 
Had she kept the vow ? 

A happy light shone in Lord Ralph’s eyes as 
he watched, in the same way another had watched 
before him, the busy workmen at Grantly Manor 
preparing a suite of rooms for his bride. * 

Mason Reynolds’ wish had been respected. The 


IN SICKNESS, IN SORROW. 


227 


ill-fated north rooms were fast locked, and on the sun 
niest side of the mansion four large rooms were be 
ing fitted up in blue and gold. 

Every morning Lord Ralph rode to Castle Vale to 
greet his betrothed, carrying with him the choicest 
flowers the green house afforded. Life had never 
seemed fairer to him. His limited vision could not 
discern the evil to come. 

In her own good time, or in her own bad time, 
whichever my reader may choose to term it, stern- 
browed Fate comes to assert herself manager of the 
stage of life; and, without as much as “by your 
leave, sir,” drops the curtain and shifts the scene. 

The very day the beautiful bridal robe arrived 
from Paris, a soiled missive was handed to Kitty. 

It ran thus: 

My Dear Kitty Kaw, the Kountess: 

I suppose now you’re so big an’ grand, you’ve forgot liow you 
used to live with me, an’ talked of exporting yourself, rather than 
go an’ live with your aunt Het. But I mene to infresh your 
memory ; then, I’ve got something to rite about. It’s the oddest 
thing, but there’s a man here, awful sick, that can’t talk about 
nothin’ else but you. You just ought to hear him go on, a-calling 
Kitty Kaw, my darlin’ Kitty, my soon-to-be little wife! I declare, 
if he wan’t jist a dyin’, I'd take him to it for his impudence! 
Then he ’ll say how he’s got some north rooms fixed up awful 
fine for you, and that you’re a-goin’ to live in ’em. He thinks his 
name is Lord Grantly, or Rantly, I don’t kno’ which ; an’ when he 
came, he said t’was Reynolds. You can’t never tell what notions 
sick folks git into their he’ds. But as I was a-tellin’, all of a sud- 
dent he’ll change his tune an’ cry out so dretful sad that he’s got 
to leave his home, and that he can’t never marry you. It’s 
jest awful to hear him go on. He’s a powerful harnsome man 
—I don’t believe a bit older than thirty, with great black eyes and 


13 


228 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


a gentleman’s look to him; but his hair is all a turning gray. 
When he came here’t was black as a barber’s wig ; but now it’s 
most all white. Of course you can’t do nothin’; but I jist thot 
I’d rite an’ tell you. I respect he’ll be dead long before you git 
this letter. 

After you went to England, as I was a travelin’ that way I 
stopped off to see your aunt Het. I must say I did n’t take to her 
much, an’ that she wasn’t as perlite as she might have been; in 
fact, she wouldn’t let me set a foot in the house ; an’ I should n’t 
a found out one word about you if it had n’t bin I fell in with a 
dretful sociable woman, Mrs. Betsy Snibbs. She told me the hull 
tale. I never expected to rite to a live kountess, but you can’t 
never tell what you’re a cornin’ to. What shall I do about the 
man ? Rite an’ tell me. Yours, in respect an’ love, 

The Widow Beal». 

Respectable Boarding-House. 

“ It is Mason ! oh, it is Mason ! ” cried Kitty, as 
the letter dropped from her nerveless hand. “My 
darling, my love, I must go to you ! ” 


MASON IS DYING. 


229 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


MASON IS DYING. 


Well—peace to thy heart, though another's It he; 

And health to thy cheek, though it bloom not for me. 

— Moore. 


XTTTTH nervous haste, Kitty snatched up a 
VV “Morning Post” that lay on the little table 
beside her, and ran her eyes rapidly down its col¬ 
umns. 


She paused, and uttered an exclamation of satis¬ 
faction. By leaving on the hist train that stopped 
at the little station near by, she could reach Liver¬ 
pool in time to catch the first outward-bound steamer. 

“ I must go,” was the one idea that surged through 
her brain. “Mason is dying, and I must go to 
him.” 

There was no time to spare. Up the grand stair¬ 
case to her dressing-room she sped and began a hur¬ 
ried toilet. 

Before her—upon the bed and upon convenient 
chairs—lay spread her snowy bridal robe. In her 
haste she scarcely saw it. Something was in her way 
—she dashed it ruthlessly aside. It fell to the floor, 
and her hurrying feet trampled upon it. Lo ! it was 
the filmy white bridal veil. 

“ Mason is dying ! Mason is dying ! ” rang all the 
while like funeral bells in her ears, “ Would she 


230 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN". 


never be dressed ! ” she exclaimed, as she twisted and 
pulled at the buttons of her dark traveling dress. 
Her head seemed in a whirl of dizzy feeling—she 
scarcely knew what she did. Her one clear idea 
seemed to be to escape unhindered, “If I stop to 
explain,” she reasoned, “I shall miss the train, and 
Mason is dying.” 

At last her toilet was completed. After packing 
a small valise with necessary articles, and replenish¬ 
ing her purse, she drew a thick veil over her face and 
stole swiftly down a back passage, and out of the 
grounds unobserved. 

She reached the little station, which was but a 
half mile distant, just in time for the morning train. 
Entering a first-class carriage she seated herself and 
was whirled away. 

Alas ! the bride had flown. 

Late that night they reached Liverpool, and Kitty 
was driven aboard the steamer which was to sail very 
early the next morning. 

Even then she seemed to have forgotten the con¬ 
sequences that her flight would be sure to entail. 
What would the world say? How would Lord 
Grantly bear his disappointment ? were questions 
that were swallowed up in this one idea—“Mason is 
dying, I must go to him.” 

At daybreak the steamer raised her anchor and 
hove away. 

The long days and nights of the voyage seemed 
interminable to the eager girl. They gave her time 
for reflection, however; and remembering what was 


MASON IS DYING. 


281 

to have taken place, she kept wondering, vaguely— 
would Ralph be disappointed — very much disap¬ 
pointed? She dimly comprehended that he would 
and wrote him a little note. 


Please forgive me because I ran away; but Mason is dying, 
and I must go to him. 

Kitty. 

She mailed it by a return steamer. 

One bright morning they hove in sight of New 
York harbor. A kind old gentleman helped the girl 
ashore and saw her aboard an eastern train. That 
night she reached Boston, and a few minutes later 
raised the knocker to the door of the respectable 
boarding-house in Norl street. 

The widow Beals, herself, answered the summons ; 
but she did not recognize, in the beautiful woman 
that stood before her, the little Kitty of long ago. 

“Do you not know me, Mrs. Beals?” the girl ex¬ 
claimed. U 1 am Kitty Kaw. Oh, tell me, is he still 
living ? ” 

“Lord o’ massy—the Countess!” screamed Mrs. 
Beals—“ Kitty Kaw ! ” 

“I received your letter,” continued the eager, 
trembling voice. “Oh, tell me, is Mason living? 
Take me to him.” 

“The man, you mean,” said the widow, opening 
her eyes to their widest extent in her astonishment— 
“wal, he’s jest a-dyin’.” 

“Take me to him!—oh, take me to him!” cried 
Kitty in piteous tones. 


232 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN 


“ Not till you’ve had your tea. It ham’t proper 
to go into a sick room on an empty stummack,” said 
the widow, solemnly. “ The disease might be infrac¬ 
tions.” 

“I can not wait,” cried the girl, impatiently. u He 
is dying, you say—let me go to him.” 

The widow looked into the pale, anxious face be¬ 
fore her and relented. u Wal, then come this way,” 
and she led her guest to a door at the fartherest end 
of the long hall. “ He is in there,” she said briefly. 

Kitty turned the knob quickly and entered. The 
nurse and physician, in attendance, stared at her in 
astonishment, but she scarcely heeded them; her 
gaze was directed toward the bed, upon which lay a 
figure with a pale, worn face—a face that, in spite of 
the ravages sickness and sorrow had made—in spite 
of the sunken eyes and the white hair that framed it, 
Kitty knew to be her lover’s. 

“ Mason ! Mason! ” she said, with a glad cry, u I 
have come to you, dear ; I have not forgotten ; ” and 
sinking upon her knees beside the bed, she laid her 
beautiful peach-colored cheek against that poor white 
one, and kissed again and again the pale lips. 

“ He does not speak,” she sobbed, turning to the 
physician. “Oh, do not let him die ! Mason, Ma¬ 
son—my darling, don’t die !—don’t die and leave 
your poor little Kitty ! ” 

Could that cry, so full of love and despair, have 
called the wandering soul back from the border of 
spirit land ! One thin, white hand was tossed rest¬ 
lessly above the white head—then the great somber 


MASON IS DYING. 


233 


eyes opened and gazed full into the eager, loving face 
of the girl that bent above him. 

“Mason,” she cried in trembling tones, “don’t 
you know me ? I have come to you, dearest. My 
heart has been with you in sickness, in sorrow, and 
afar.” 

A bright light broke suddenly over the thin, worn 
face. “ My darling—my best beloved ! ” he whis¬ 
pered faintly. It died out and the sick man’s mind . 
began to wander. 

“Yes, Ralph shall have her,” he moaned—“he 
was always good and generous—the dear old boy 
must have her ; but oh, it is hard to give up home 
and friends forever, and Kitty—oh, Kitty 1 

“The rooms are crimson and blue—the colors 
which suited her best. Don’t give them to her, 
Ralph—I could not bear it! ” 

Then his thoughts would seem to wander to the 
battle-field, and he would say : “Put me in the front 
and let this poor fellow stand back. He has home 
and friends, and a wife ; I have nothing. My life is 
not worth the saving. Let me stand where the, dan¬ 
ger is the thickest.” 

Day after day Kitty watched beside the sick bed, 
until a gleam of reason came back to the poor over¬ 
wrought brain. 

One afternoon as she sat in her usual place, hold¬ 
ing one of the thin, worn hands in her own, the door was 
swung open, and lo, her deserted lover, Lord Ralph 
Grantly, stood before her. 

At first she scarcely recognized the pale, haggard 

to* 


234 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


face and the reproachful eyes that were bent upon 
her. 

“ Forgive me ! ” she cried, impetuously, “ I could 
not help it. Mason was dying. Look at him ! See 
the sorrow he has suffered,” and she pointed to the 
wasted figure upon the bed. 

“My God! can this be Mason ? ” exclaimed Lord 
Ralph. “ How changed ! how changed ! ” 

The sick man stirred uneasily in his sleep, and 
muttered, “Yes, Ralph shall have her. I’m sure he 
always loved her. He gave her up to me in the old 
days. I must go away—away forever.” 

“He was all alone,” sobbed Kitty, “and we 
thought him dead. I knew it was wrong to come, 
but I could not let him die all alone. Say you for¬ 
give me, Ralph ! say you forgive me ! ” 

“I forgive you,” said Lord Grantly, gently, “but 
you should have told me. I would have provided 
company, or came with you.” 

“I did not have time ; indeed, I did not,” gasped 
Kitty. “ I had only time to catch the morning train. 
I suppose it was dreadful ; but oh, I can not help it,” 

“He is awake,” whispered Ralph, warningly. 

The sick man turned on his pillow, and his eyes 
wandered about the apartment until they rested upon 
the intruder. 

“Ralph !” he exciaimed. 

“Mason, dear old boy !” said the other, the tears 
of manly sorrow trickling down his cheeks, “ God 
only knows how I feel to see you like this.” 

“Never mind, old fellow, it is all right. Life 


MASON IS DYING. 


235 


isn’t what I thought it in the old days. You’ve come 
for Kitty ; poor, rash, little girl! Don’t blame her 
too much, but take her back to England with you 
and make her happy.” 

“ Not until you are able to go with us, Mason,” 
said Ralph, trying to smile gayly. “ A pretty story 
John Silvester trumped up that you were dead. We 
ought to have known the fellow was crazy. Listen ! 
Kitty must return as your bride, not as mine. Hush! 
I won’t hear a word ; she has always loved you; it was 
only a mistake. You will find Grantly Manor just as 
you left it. Come back and take your own.” 

“Dear noble heart!” exclaimed Kitty, catching 
his hands impulsively in her own, “ not for the world 
will we accept of Grantly Manor. It is rightfully 
yours. Castle Yale is all Mason and I care for. You 
have made us so happy ! In the years to come I am 
sure you will find some one who is far worthier— 
some one whom you will love more than you ever 
could poor little me.” 

Ralph knew better. To the woman he so unself¬ 
ishly relinquished to another he had given the only 
love his true heart would ever know. 

“ May God bless you both,” he said, softly, lay¬ 
ing one hand upon the gray, and the other upon the 
golden head. 


236 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER XXXII, 


“love made it so.” 


IKE a gaily decked “warrior,” the sun arose next 



1 J morning, and shone brightly into a faded room 
in the widow Beals' respectable boarding-house. As 
it streamed resolutely through the dingy white cur¬ 
tains, it seemed to suspect that happiness lurked here 
and was resolved to brighten it. 

Kitty lay asleep in the wide, old-fashioned bed; 
but a long, golden shaft of shining warmth fell di¬ 
rectly across her eyes and awoke her. She looked 
about the shabby room, whose familiarity awakened 
a sense of other years. How unchanged everything 
was ! The same old carpet, the same old chairs, the 
same dingy prints upon the wall. Only one thing 
seemed lacking—the pale, invalid face of her mother. 
How often she had sat beside the very bed she now 
occupied, and held a thin, white hand ! It almost 
seemed to Kitty she ought to get up and prepare her 
mother's breakfast. How memory bridges the years ! 
The grave, where the dear one lay sleeping, was very 
green. 

How well she remembered the morning the widow 
Beals had drawn her unwilling form through yonder 
door and presented her to lawyer Blackmar. With * 


237 


“love made it so.” 

what angry fury she had stamped upon Miss Hester 
Hinkley’s unfeeling letter, and given away to a pas¬ 
sion of tears. Secure in her present happiness, she 
could afford to feel half sorry for that tempestuous 
young person, and half inclined to laugh at her. 

“How absurd I must have been in those days,” 
she said aloud. 

It is so sweet to be happy—completely happy— 
and so rare. The girl’s life, in spite of her wondrous 
fortune, had known much bitterness. She nestled 
down in the warm bed and closed her eyes in a happy 
dream. What need for her to stir yet? Ralph 
would take care of Mason—and Mason was out of 
danger. 

How long she might have slept—what happy 
dreams might have visited her—is unknown. There 
came a loud knock outside her door, and a moment 
later, Mrs. Beals presented herself. 

“I hope you’ve slept Avell,” remarked the loqua¬ 
cious widow, sinking into a chair. “ That new young 
man was requiring about you a long time ago ; but I 
told him I couldn’t think of disturbing your ex¬ 
pose.” 

Kitty laughed — the widow still confused her 
words. “ You may tell him I have reposed exceed¬ 
ingly well,” she said. 

The widow Beals did not seem inclined to stir. 
Her eyes wandered about the apartment. “Your 
ma died in this room,” she said, softly. 

“Yes,” said Kitty, the tears springing to her 
lovely eyes—“ poor mamma! poor mamma ! ” 


238 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


“ I resume you didn’t expect no great luck when 
you left here,” continued Mrs. Beals—“ never sus¬ 
pected to be a Countess. Wal, one never can’t tell 
what they’re coinin’ to. I've said the same to myself 
many a time, but I don’t seem to come to nothing.” 

Kitty made no reply to this remark ; but lay 
watching, with dewy eyes, a sunbeam crawling la¬ 
zily along a bar of the faded carpet. 

The widow folded her plump hands, one over the 
other, and seemed lost in pensive thought. ‘‘Law¬ 
yer Blackmar's gone,” she said, suddenly—“died of 
heart disease—dropped down dead on his partner’s 
doorsteps, jest after he’d given them three raps of 
liis’n.” 

“Indeed!-” said Kitty—a remembrance of the 
grim old lawyer rising before her. It must be con¬ 
fessed it was not a pleasant remembrance. 

“I wish,” said the widow, very precipitately, . 
“you’d tell me all about it.” 

“ About what ? ” asked Kitty. 

“Why, about everything. Who that man is? 
How you came to come here, and what you are go¬ 
ing to do about it ? ” 

The widow’s curiosity had burst its confines. 

A soft blush dyed Lady Kitty’s fair face. “He 
is my lover,” she said, “ and I—I am going to marry 
him.” 

“ That’s what I thought,” exclaimed the delighted 
widow—“ I told myself that all along. I suppose 
he’ll be a Count when he gits you ? ” 

“No,’’ said Kitty, “ he bears no title—he is only 


239 


“love made it so.” 

plain Mason Reynolds ; ” and her heart throbbed with 
joy as she recollected how easily he might have borne 
a title, but for honor. 

“Who’s the other? ” asked the widow. 

“The other is Lord Ralph Grantly, of Grantly 
-Manor, England.” 

“My soul!” This ejaculation was heartfelt—it 
welled from the bosom of the surprised widow. 
“Wal,” she said, after an eloquent pause, “if you 
warn’t the real Kitty Ivaw in spite of being a Count¬ 
ess, and if I hadn’t nursed your poor ma during her 
last illness, I really shouldn’t believe you. I’ve read 
in the New York Ledger about lords and dookes, but 
I never suspected to see one in the human form. I’ve 
always told myself, if I did come across one, I’d 
know him by his proud an’ lofty air; but la! this 
one is just like any other man—wears the same kind 
of clothes.” 

“IIow did you expect a lord to look?” asked 
Kitty, with secret amusement. 

“ Why,” said the honest American “ like a lord. 
I suspected he’d come riding on a milk-white charger, 
with an embroidered mantle around him, and a suit 
of white satin trimmed with gold on him ; a sword 
by his side, and a cocked hat on his head. That 
seems the only proper way.” 

“Then the proper way has departed from Eng¬ 
land,” laughed Kitty. “I have never met a lord 
thus attired.” 

“ Don’t you think,” said the widow, insinuatingly, 


240 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


“you have made a mistake? I should have chosen 
the lord.” 

“It was impossible,” quoth Kitty. 

“ Why? ” asked her interlocutor. 

“ Love made it so.” 

“ Dear, dear,” remarked the widow, vising to de¬ 
part, “ love will go where it’s sent; but I guess ”— 
glancing admiringly at the beautiful face—“ the im¬ 
possible was all on your side.” 

An hour later, Kitty stood by her lover’s side. 

To the man who had suffered more than the bit¬ 
terness of death, she looked fairer than an angel—the 
one being on earth wholly desirable. He could 
scarcely believe in his own good fortune. 

“ Darling,” he whispered—pulling her down be¬ 
side him—“ is it true that Ralph gave you back to 
me, or did I only dream it ? ” 

There was an intent look in his mournful, pain- 
sunken eyes, that hurt the girl. 

“Yes,” she said, softly, “he gave me back to 
you ; but, Mason, I—I never was his.” 

They were quite unconscious of the figure that 
darkened the doorway. 

When the sick man spoke there was a glad ring 
in his voice. “Do you mean, dearest, that you never 
loved Ralph ? ” 

“ Yes,” she said candidly ; “I never loved him— 
the least little bit.” 

Oh, selfish, all-absorbing love ! 

“Ralph is welcome to the lands and the title,” 


LOVE MADE IT SO. 


241 


’ u 


V 


said Mason Reynolds. “You are my portion—I am 
content. ” 

The figure in the doorway turned silently and 
went away. The girl’s careless, cruel words had cut 
home to Lord Ralph Grantly. 

“ So she never loved me, the least little bit,” he 
said, sadly, “ and I—I gave her the whole wealth of 
my heart.” 

A little later he passed the half-open door, and 
saw the girl sitting with her cool, slim hand locked 
in her lover’s. The sunlight fell down upon her 
golden head and touched the soft, peachy bloom of 
her cheek. She had lost the gay, tantalizing air of 
old, and in its place had come a tender sweetness, 
which whispered her woman’s soul was at rest. 

In the eyes of Mason Reynolds dwelt the peace 
which passes all understanding. 

Lord Ralph Grantly paused and gazed at the fair 
scene. To his yearning, bleeding heart, it was al¬ 
most like a glimpse of Heaven itself. He might not 
enter. “Perhaps,” he thought, “so Divine Mercy 
allows each lost soul a glimpse of paradise, that a re¬ 
membrance may dwell with him forever. Come 
what will, in their sweet content—their perfect peace 
—I shall not count my sacrifice in vain.” 


11 


242 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


A VISIT TO HINKLEY PARK. 


ASON REYNOLDS pleaded hard that their 



-LVJL marriage might take place in America ; but 
Lady Kitty was resolute in her denial. 

“No,” she said, firmly, “1 must be married at 
beautiful Castle Yale, with my people about me. It 
is my home and I love it.” 

“But Kitty,” pleaded her lover, “you forget; 
you are marrying a beggar—one who is socially an 
outcast. Your splendid wedding festivities will only 
publish the fact the wider,” 

“I don't care,” said the maiden, with spirit— 
“you’re not a beggar or an outcast; and it matters 
very little to me what people think. I shall never 
be married but once in my life, and I mean to have a 
good time about it. I shall make feasts and feasts and 
invite everybody for miles around. Not a poor person 
in the parish shall find himself hungry. Do you know, 
Mason, even when I lived at aunt Hester Hinkley’s, 
and was first engaged to you, I had laid my plans. 
Of course I supposed you poor, yet I had settled on a 
white wedding gown with a train to it fully two yards 
long. That reminds me, Mason, I should really like 
to visit aunt Hester.” 


A VISIT TO HINKLEY PARK. 


243 


“Don’t put yourself in the dragon’s clutches!” 
cried her lover. 

“Don’t be absurd,” laughed Lady Kitty. “I 
honestly mean I should like to go to the old place. It 
was very pleasant there, but for aunt Hester. I 
should like to take a sail on Mermaid Lake once 
more, and to visit the little Island. It will be seve¬ 
ral days before my guardian’s wife arrives to chape¬ 
rone me back to England. In the meantime, I mean 
to suggest to Mrs. Beals that we pay a visit to Briar- 
town. We can take up our abode in the village with 
that delightful Mrs. Snibbs. The widow says she is 
considerable of a woman.” 

“And leave me!” cried Mason, in wild dis¬ 
may. 

“ Ton can’t exist without me ! ” mocked Kitty. 
“Well, if you feel able to travel, you and Ralph 
might follow after us.” 

“I shall feel able to travel! ” said that young 
man, prophetically. 

The widow Beals, upon learning for a certainty 
that a visit to Briartown would financially cost her 
nothing, decided that such a journey would recu¬ 
perate her. 

“I must profess,” she cried, “that I shall re- 
prive great enjoyment from seeing Mrs. Betsy Snibbs. 
She is a very amicable woman. I can’t say as much 
for your aunt Het—she ain’t all I could wish her ; 
but if I meet her, I’m determined to be as impolite as 
possible in my reportment towards her.” 

One cloudless morning they set out, and the sun 


244 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


had sunk behind the western hills when they reached 
Briartown. For the sake of Mrs. Grundy, Ralph 
and Mason, were to follow one day later. 

“ If ever time stands still it is in a country vil¬ 
lage,” cried Kitty. “Nothing has changed an atom.” 
So it seemed. The same lazy quietness lay upon the 
streets. Upon the steps to the village store sat the 
same old loafers—in the same old .clothes—smoking 
the same old pipes. A yellow dog with a stubby tail 
came joyfully up to greet the girl. She recognized 
him as an old acquaintance. He belonged to the 
lodge-keeper at Hinkley Park. 

“ How d’ye, Peter,” she exclaimed, and the canine 
lifted up his voice and howled joyfully. 

Nothing else recognized her. People stared at her 
on every side ; but none seemed to guess this was 
sweet Rachel Hinkley’s only child. 

Presently they reached Mrs. Snibbs’ abode. The 
widow Beals applied her knuckles to a panel of the 
door in an energetic fashion. 

Not in vain was this sound appeal. Mrs. Snibbs, 
herself, opened the door. 

“ How d’ye do, Betsy Snibbs? ” cried the widow. 
“I’ve come agin.” 

A vigorous hand-shaking succeeded this remark. 

“I never thought you’d come this way again,” 
said Mrs. Betsy ; “ but I am glad to see ye.” 

“I s’pose you can’t guess who I’ve brought with 
me ? ” remarked the widow. 

“No, I can’t,” said Mrs. Snibbs, turning her 
astonished eyes full upon Kitty. 


A VISIT TO H1NKLEY PARK. 


245 


The widow threw out her hand elaborately. “ Al¬ 
low me to introduce to you the Countess of Castle 
Vale, her highness what used to be Kitty Kaw.” 

There was a moment of horrified surprise on Mrs. 
Betsy’s part; then she fell to wildly snatching up bits 
of work that lay scattered about the untidy room. 

“Land! land how things look!” she cried in an 
agony of regret; “ If I’d only known you ’re coinin’, 
I’d had the house togged from top to bottom.” 

A few minutes later, a sepulchral whisper issued 
from another room : 

“Polly Quackenbos ! Polly Quackenbos ! she’s a 
real live countess ! What on airth shall I dew? Run 
out and borry Mis’ Beaver’s silver spoons and the 
Chiny plates.” 

“So much for my title,” laughed Kitty. 

It was with a variety of emotions that Lady Kate 
Grandale ascended the steps to Hinkley Park mansion. 
Everything about her looked very familiar. Through 
a green vista at her left, she caught glimpses of the 
lake, ruffling in the passing breeze, and breaking into 
countless dimples where the sun struck it. 

The old butler opened the ponderous door, and 
admitted her. His keen eye recognized her. 

“You ha’ coom back,” he cried joyfully. “Old 
John ha’ a glad welcome for ye.” 

“Not to stay,” she said smilingly, “only for a 
little while. Do you think aunt Hester will see me, 
John ? ” 

The old man scratched his head and looked down. 


246 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


“I canna say, my bonnie mistress,” he replied hesitat¬ 
ingly, “but Ill ha’ a word wi’ her.” 

Kitty wended her way into the too familiar draw¬ 
ing-room. Yes—there they were—the twelve chairs 
—six in a row on either side of the apartment, Hanked 
at each end by an unyielding sofa. It only needed 
Miss Hester in the stiff bombazine dress, with the 
Book of Daily Prayer in her right hand, to complete 
the picture. No, it needed more than this. There 
should be an undeveloped girl in a limp, white gown, 
twining her golden curls, one at a time, over her idle 
fingers. From this fair, yet wretched plebeian, must 
burst forth alternately tears and storms, in defiance of 
her austere relative. 

As Kitty drew the picture, she could almost hear 
Miss Hester’s voice: 

“Tears, Katherine, are the evidence of a weak 
mind.” 

Her mind must certainly have been very weak in 
those days. 

These thoughts were distracted by a solemn rustle 
outside the door. A moment later the exact prototype 
of her imagination entered the room. The funereal 
bombazine, the close-fitting shirred cap, the Book of 
Daily Prayer—all were here, and not a wrinkle more 
or less in Miss Hester's vinegary countenance. 

As she sailed majestically down the length of the 
long room, a feeling of alarm possessed Kitty. Had 
she suddenly lapsed into her insignificant girlish days ? 
Perhaps her emancipation from aunt Hester would 
prove only a dream. 


A VlSiT TO HINKLEY PARK. 24 ? 

“ How d’ ye do, Katherine Kaw ? ” came in deep, 
sepulchral tones from Miss Hinkley. “You have 
returned to the home of your illustrious ancestors ; it 
is well.” 

44 I have not come to stay,” said Kitty, well-pleased 
to make such an announcement. 

“Your plebeian instincts,”remarked Miss Hester, 
“still lead you to roam. As my misguided sister Re¬ 
becca’s child, I must say I am not surprised.” 

Kitty felt the old defiant feeling struggling within 
her. 

“You could not expect me to leave my home, 
aunt Hester,” she said proudly. 

Miss Hinkley turned down a leaf in the Book of 
Daily Prayer, laid that volume upon a table near her, 
and took up her netting. 

A deep silence reigned in the old room. Miss 
Hester seemed lost in pious thoughts. After a long 
time her wandering gaze became fixed upon her fair 
niece. 

“ Katherine Kaw,” she said, in a tone whose cold¬ 
ness struck home to the girl, 4 4 have you any errand 
with me ? ” 

There was a suspicion of triumph in Kitty’s voice. 

44 No,” she replied. 44 1 only came to tell you 1 
am going to be married, aunt Hester.” 

Outwardly serene, Miss Hinkley, picked up a 
stitch in her netting, before enquiring : 

4 4 To whom ? ” 

44 To my lover,” said Kitty, with a wicked little 


248 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


laugh. “Only think — after all these years, aunt 
Hester.” 

A dreadful instinct seemed dawning in Miss 
Hester’s virtuous breast. For once in her life she 
looked surprised. “ Can it be possible,” she ejacu¬ 
lated, “ you are going to wed the—the barber ? ” 

“ Even so—the barber, aunt Hester.” 

“ A second stain upon our family escutcheon ! ” 

Miss Hester seemed communing with her sixteen 
defunct grandfathers. Her face wore an expression 
of lively horror, indicative of the emotions of that 
supernatural conclave. 

She took off her spectacles and rubbed them vig¬ 
orously. 

“Katherine Kaw,” she exclaimed, “I can not 
allow it. The Hinkleys have always been a noble 
race. I can trace back to my sixteenth great grand¬ 
father, and there has never been a stain upon our 
family escutcheon until my misguided sister Rebecca 
married Richard Kaw. A wretched little ambrotype 
has proven your father the missing Grandale heir; 
how falsely, his daughter’s low-born proclivities con- 
tirm. Katherine Kaw, you are a plebeian to the very 
marrow ot your bones ! I repeat, to the very marrow 
of your bones! ” 

“Thank you, aunt Hester,” murmured the fair 
plebeian. 

“If you are resolved,” continued Miss Hinkley, 
waxing warm with her subject, “ if you are resolved 
to wed with this low-born outcast (I am aware of his 
history), I command you, once and for all, to renounce 


A VISIT TO HINKLEY PARK. 


249 

the name of Hinkley. Stain not the sacred annals 
of your ancestors ! Depart an ungrateful Kaw, and 
forever abide as one.” 

With the air of offended majesty, Miss Hester 
advanced to the half-open door. “John,” she conn 
manded, “ show this person out ? ” 

With a sigh of relief, Kitty arose and departed. 

*:Weel. weel,” muttered the old man, “my inis« 
tress is a hard un ; but my blessings on the bonnie 
lassie. ” 

Kitty did not immediately return to the village. 
She wandered through the park, and came upon the 
very boat she had so often rowed over Mermaid Lake. 
Springing into it, she unfastened the chain, and 
rowed away over the shining, rippling water. What 
did she care for Miss Hester Hinkley’s maledictions ! 
Nature wore her joyous robes, and the girl’s heart beat 
in unison with her. The air was resonant with the 
tuneful melody of endless birds. The sun lilted o’er 
the water and shivered in golden gleams. Above her 
was a great airy vault of blue, tapestried with drift 
upon drift of cumulus clouds. With cheerful caws 
the crows flew from the topmost branches of the 
trees in the park, to thieve amid the corn — gay 
marauders who stopped to peck derisively at the 
scare-crow the farmer had raised aloft. At the far¬ 
ther end of the lake a bed of reeds quivered and 
shook in the morning breeze. Somewhere amid the 
dense greenness a loon screamed loudly to its mate. 
Kitty drew in her oars, and let her boat drift in among 
the lily pads. She leaned over and clutched a great, 


m 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


idle, white water-lily. It resisted her overtures until 
a tierce little tug brought its long, hollow stem reluc¬ 
tantly to the surface. Its fresh beauty awoke contri¬ 
tion in her heart. Why not have let it lain upon the 
bosom of the lake, to live out its short, pure life? “I 
will not pick another one,” she said softly to herself, 
and rowed away. 

After her long confinement and anxious watching, 
the fresh air was like new wine in the girl’s veins. 
She turned her delighted eyes about her—beauty on 
every side ! — the woods, the hills, the sparkling 
water, the tender slope of green banks ; above her, the 
azure sky and drift upon drift of cumulus clouds. 

“Oh, my dear native land,” she cried, “thou art 
beautiful indeed ! Though I leave thee, I shall love 
thee still ! ” 

She splashed her dripping oars into the water until 
they shed countless diamond spray, and lifting up her 
fresh young voice, sang : 


I cuist ray line in Largo Bay, 

And fishes—I caught nine; 

They’re three to roast, and three to boil, 
And three to bait the line. 

The boatie rows; the boatie rows- 
The boatie rows, indeed! 

And happy be the lot of a’ 

That wish the boatie speed. 

“ When Jamie vowed he wad be mine, 
And wan frae me my heart, 

Oh, muckle lighter grew my creel; 

He swore we’d never part. 


A VISIT TO HINKLEY PARK. 


251 


The boatie rows; the boatie rows; 

The boatie rows fu’ weel; 

And muckle lighter is the lade, 

When love bears up the creel. 

Over the water came an echo of the refrain, in a 
glad tenor voice : 


“ And muckle lighter is the lade, 
When love bears up the creel.” 


Kitty rested upon her oars, and gazed curiously 
about her. Presently her wandering orbs discerned a 
masculine figure, looking strangely familiar, standing 
upon the beach of the little island, energetically wav¬ 
ing a stick to which was attached a white cambric 
handkerchief. 

A glad exclamation broke from her. Turning her 
boat quickly about, she made for the island—so light, 
it seemed to fairly fly over the limpid water. Surely, 
“love bore up the creel.” Her exertions appeared 
to meet the approbation of the masculine figure. The 
moment her bark grated upon the pebbly beach, he 
was by her side, to help her out. 

“ Why, Mason ! so soon ! ” she cried. 

“We took the very next train,” admitted that 
young man, rather sheepishly. “I really couldn’t 
endure it longer.” 

“Where is Ralph? ” she asked. 

“ Sketching over yonder. You are to sit with me 
for an hour.” 

They sat down upon the green bank, and one hour 


252 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


slipped into two before the lovers began to question 
Lord Grantly’s absence. 

“ We must go in search of him,” said Kitty. 

The girl saw him first, sitting motionless before 
his easel. 

“ Let me go to him alone, Mason,” she said. 

She stole softly to his side, and laid a gentle hand 
upon his shoulder. He did not feel it. 

“Ralph,” she said softly, “ Ralph ! ” 

He heard and turned a white, stricken face to¬ 
ward her. 

“ Don’t! don’t! ” she cried out. “ I am not worth 
it! You—you hurt me, Ralph.” 

“ I wouldn’t for the world,” he said gently. “See, 
I am gay. I heard you singing, and I — I was only 
thinking a little of old times.” 

Great was Mrs. Snibbs’ surprise, and great was 
her delight at beholding the two young men. 

“The hours Polly and I have talked of you ! ” she 
exclaimed. 

“And abused us,” said Mason, quizzically. 

Mrs. Snibbs looked a little guilty. 

“ I did hear,” she began humbly— 

“ That I was a tonsorial artist,” completed Mr. 
Reynolds. 

“ A what ? ” 

“ A barber.” 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Snibbs, evidently’ashamed of 
the fact 

“ Miss Hinkley, of Hinkley Park, kindly informed 
you—eh ? ” 


A VISIT TO HINKLEY PARK. 


253 


“Yes.” 

“ You believed her ? ” 

“Not I,” said Mrs. Betsy, indignantly. “She is 
a regular old scratch-cat! ” 

“ May I ask what you did believe ? ” 

“Wal, says I to Polly, as sure as you’re born, 
Polly Quackenbos, Mr. Mason is a gentleman to his 
very backbone.” 

The young man bowed low before her. 

“ Thank you, Mrs. Snibbs,” he said. “ It is the 
only title to which I can justly lay any claim.” 


254 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


CHAPTER XXXIY. 

THE WEDDING. 


I N good time Kitty’s chaperone arrived — virtuous 
indignation written upon every lineament of 
her face. She said little, but in her silence one could 
read volumes. 

“I suppose,” said Kitty, penitently, “ you think 
I have committed the unpardonable sin, Mrs. Lang- 
don ? ” 

“I do not find myself competent to express an 
opinion upon that score. Lady Kate,” replied the 
chaperone, precisely. “You were born and reared 
in this country. What may be perfectly proper in 
America, is decidedly outre in England.” 

“Well, well,” said Kitty, a little petulantly, 
“What’s done can’t be undone.” 

“ What shocked me most was to think yon traveled 
without a maid,” remarked Mrs. Langdon, presently. 
“ Who in the world did your hair ? ” 

“I did it myself,” replied Kitty, boldly. “I never 
thought of having a maid until I went to England.” 

“Do—do American ladies get along without 
maids?” asked Mrs. Langdon, in mild disapproval. 

“The most of them. 1 believe some of them 
think it is very silly to be so waited upon. ” 


THE WEDDING. 


255 


u Oh, to be sure! I forget. What is very proper 
in America is considered very improper in England. 
I—I think I prefer England—decidedly prefer it." 

“I don’t,” said Kitty, bluntly—native spirit rising 
within her. ‘*1 prefer sunshine to fog any day, and 
honest inquiry to egotism. If it wasn’t for Castle 
Yale. I should live forever in America.” 

Mrs. Langdon turned the rings upon her idle fin¬ 
gers. 

4 ‘ Your—your penchant does not extend to—to the 
men,” she remarked a little sarcastically. 

Lady Kate felt herself cornered. 

44 Mason is part Spanish,” she said; “but if he 
were wholly English, I—I am sure I should love him.” 

A few days later the party set sail for England. 
They bore away with them the keen regrets and felici¬ 
tations of the widow Beals. Mrs. Langdon watched 
with great disgust the good woman bestow upon 
Kitty a hearty kiss. 

4 * It seemed very strange to her,” she remarked— 
4 4 one of the vulgar mass kissing a titled lady ; but 
then, she must try and bear in mind, what was very 
proper in America was exceedingly improper in En- 
land. For her part, she should be very glad to set 
foot upon her native soil once more. There she knew 
exactly what to do, and exactly what to expect.” 

Nobody felt sorry at her leaving. The widow 
Beals heaved a sigh of relief. In describing her to a 
friend, she said : 44 1 can git along with the nobility 
an’ I can descend to the commoners ; but I can’t im- 


256 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


bibe the middlety. That Mrs. Langdon is neither 
high nor low; she is jest betwixt an’ between. ” 

When lawyer Martins heard of Mason Reynolds’ 
return to England, he thrust his ever busy pen behind 
his ear, and sat motionless upon his high stool. 

“I thought we were well rid of him,” he said 
aloud. u Can the dead return to life ? It seems so. 
His nobleness has received its just reward. I—I 
wonder if the evil I intended him will receive its just 
punishment ? It almost seems we reap as we sow.” 

Lady Kitty kept her resolution. She made 
feasts and feasts. Her tenants came and gorged 
themselves, and went away blessing her—it is so easy 
to bestow blessings, with a full stomach. 

The moonlight silvered the white walls of beauti¬ 
ful Castle Vale. In the garden below it lay like a 
filmy, wavering veil annd the flowers. The soft, 
subtle fragrance of the roses stole through the night 
air, and only the contented twitter of a sleeping bird 
broke the silence. 

“Look,” said Mason Reynolds, pointing beneath 
the marble balcony upon which they stood. “ In the 
shadow of that shrubbery I sat and heard you prom¬ 
ise to marry Ralph. I was sick at heart. I had trav¬ 
eled many a mile to hear—only this.” 

A mischievous light played in the maiden’s eyes. 
“You know, Mason,” she said demurely, “it was 
only fulfilling the old adage: ‘ Listeners never hear 
any good to themselves.’ ” 

“I was not listening,” he said, a trifle indignant. 



THE WEDDING. 257 

44 I was completely exhausted, and had sat down upon 
yonder bench to rest.” 

44 We won't quarrel about it,” said Kitty, compos¬ 
edly. 44 You ran away, and I ran after you, and 
fetched you back. It will be useless to try and 
escape me a second time, Mason. By the by,” she 
continued presently, 44 do you know who came to see 
me to-day ? ” 

44 No,” he said indifferently. 

44 Lady Cecilia Brandon. In spite of the cavalier 
she regrets you— really regrets you, Mason. To-day 
when she wished me happiness, I saw tears in her 
eyes. Poor little lady ! I felt sorry for her, but I 
really couldn’t make the sacrifice.” 

44 Hush ! ” said Mason Reynolds. 44 1 can not 
bear to speak of her.” 

She brought back to him too vividly the proud, 
worldly woman who had been his mother. 

The girl looked at him, in sudden fright. 

44 Why, Mason,” she said tremulously, 44 you—you 
surely didn’t care for her ? ” 

44 No,” he said gently ; 44 it is not that.” 

Even from the woman he loved he would shield 
his mother’s folly. 

44 1 never loved any one—” 

44 But my humble self,” said Kitty, completely 
reassured, sweeping away from him in a long courtesy. 

Presently she came back, and raising herself on 
tip toe, clasped her hands behind his head. 

44 Mason,” she said solemnly, 44 1 am so happy to¬ 
night, that it makes me appear light and trifling ; but 

R 11* 


258 


A FAIR PLEBEIAN. 


I would have you remember, nobody in all this world 
loves you as I do. ” 

k ‘Oh, sweet! 1 ' lie said, bending until his gray 
head touched her golden locks, “I have lost every¬ 
thing but you, and in you I have found all I lost.” 

So they were married. The ceremony took place 
in the little church in the village. All the villagers 
came in their best clothes, and approved the act. 
Lord Ralph Grantly gave away the bride. He made 
no outward sign, yet it almost broke his great heart. 
In the years to come, Fate was sweet to him. She 
brought him no other woman’s love, but a high com¬ 
panion who dwelt within his soul, and lent his brush 
such heavenly arts that all the world united to ring his 
praise. 


THE END. 

































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